It Never Ends for 'Dooh Nibor'
by KeepingAmused
Summary: Nottingham Uni campus rebels are ready to bite the students' money problems on the nose. The gang face a startling adulthood, bitter pasts and frightening global events. Some trauma, giggles and mature themes. RobMarian, WillDjaq: WillSaffiyah and my OCs
1. They

_FRESHMAN PARTY_

"There they are," Robin spotted the small congregation in the corner of the room, pointing out his hunched friends to Marian. She gave grave nod, silently implying that she wasn't going to join him. Daring to plant his lips on her cheek, he dodged past the dancing couples towards the corner shaded from the revolving violet lights. Marian clenched her fists angrily at his gesture, making her way towards a cluster of giggling female voices.

"Here he is," Much sighed, his body racking as he received a strong smack to the shoulder. He whipped off his slim glasses and gave the sides of his nose a tired rub as a cheerful Robin fell into the chair beside him.

"Fellas," Robin grinned as Allan clinked the neck of a bottle with his own with an equally satisfied grin. Will gave a small nod and hastily returned his attention to the spare napkin placed on his lap, which he was etching on.

Much gave Allan's fourth bottle of beer a disapproving glare, receiving a pair of undefeated waggling eyebrows in return. "How was everyone's night?"

"Great," Allan belched, then gave Much an apologetic shrug after slurring his 'better out than in' excuse. Other than leaving the dance floor with a tight slap from an angry girl, Allan was quite enjoying himself, bathing outside the blinding party lights for once. It was quite foreign territory, actually sitting with his crew instead of mingling with good-looking Helens and Katies, but he enjoyed his friends' company – as boring as they may be.

He clunked his beer down on the table and leaned over the table towards Will. "What you drawing?" he asked, trying to see past the tangle of long, pale fingers. He's such an odd boy, Allan chuckled to himself. His hair needs a decent trim, too, he noted.

"Just, nothing," Will mumbled, not looking up. He quickly slid a small camera out of one baggy pocket and clicked at the sketch on the napkin, just to save the picture. He smiled contently to himself and continued to scribble and snap at his work.

"Let's see," Allan quickly swiped the napkin out of Will's hands, an action which was surprisingly smooth for his bleary vision.

"S'nothing," Will repeated angrily, knocking over Allan's beer as he stretched across the table.

Slipping his glasses back on his nose, Much peered over Allan's shoulder and raised his eyebrows at the confusing diagrams sketched into the tissue, "It's just _designs,_" he shouted as the volume of the stereo blared shamelessly through their words.

Will chewed impatiently on the end of his pen.

"Yeah, well done," Robin smirked knowingly. He'd been an elder brother to Will for many years, adding to their surprise when Will landed a scholarship at Nottingham University, and had unconsciously memorised all of the quiet boy's habits. He took a sip from his bottle, craning his neck to watch his beloved Marian dance with her friends.

He took note of the thick book in her hands, whilst she swayed to bass-line, and the crazed interest in her eyes as she flicked through the pages whilst giving a quick synopsis to a dancing lecture-buddy. _Othello_, he frowned at the cover. Marian's body moved fluidly, still in tune with the music, but her lips were moving enthusiastically as she pointed to the pages in the book. The lecture-buddy rolled her eyes and gave Marian a pitying pat on the shoulder, mouthing the word 'obsessed'.

"Why don't you draw a person, mate?" Allan continued, in Robin's earshot, dropping the napkin back on Will's lap, "instead of taking snaps of your creative wonders."

"Let him doodle whatever he feels like doodling," Robin returned to Will's defence as he tore his eyes away from Marian and turned around to face the boys, "you lot heard of Othello?"

"No. Where's that?" Allan yawned.

"It's a _play_, by Shakespeare," Much looked at them both in disbelief and gave a wild display of memory-stimulating hand gestures. He sighed helplessly at their blank faces.

"OK.." Robin shrugged, clearly clueless.

"It's about a black officer from the war marrying a venetian woman...? Interracial marriage? Desdemona and Othello?" Much ellaborated, searching for a spark of recognition in his friend's eyes.

"Oh, yeah," Robin slapped his frustrated friend's leg in victory, "And then they die in the end, right?"

"You've actually _read_ it," Allan remarked into his drink.

"The couple nearly always die at the end of Shakespeare's plays, genius," Much groaned under his breath.

Allan waved off the Othello discussion with a scowl, considering they were at a party and not a communal book-club. The scene had relaxed into a series of rock ballads and the excitement had toned down considerably as the many female guests made their way towards their own dormitories. Allan's attention rotated to Will's hands, again. The dark-haired boy had flicked the napkin off his lap and was absentmindedly clicking the flash button on his camera at various angles of the party.

"What you taking a picture of?" Allan inquired lazily as he slumped into his chair.

Will frowned, "I'm just bored. Nothing, really."

"It's something," Allan persisted for the second time, sitting up properly. "Let us see."

"You know it's just architectural," Will mumbled, spinning his thumb over the lens. He bit his lower lip, pointing the camera in various directions, occasionally adjusting the lighting and zoom. His antics were torturing his drunken best friend, who continued nagging him for a peek.

Robin sighed inwardly, hearing the bicker rising between Allan and Will at his side. Diverting himself from Much's lecture about English literature, he grabbed the rubber band that was wrapped around the beer can-opener and aimed it at Will's wrist with a well-targeted flick. The flying hoop gave a surprisingly loud twang against the boy's skin and the camera rattled onto the table. Success.

Allan sniggered at Will's hiss of pain and slid the camera off the table. Before Will could launch a pair of gangly limbs at him, he flicked through the 'review' button to take a gander at the quiet boy's previous photographs. Tables...chairs...vases...round thing...He observed with a bored expression on his face.

Allan stopped abruptly when he came across a particular snapshot. "Who? -"

The image was of a young woman, half of her face flooded in pitch black, smiling sadly. It was completely out of sync with Will's other random snapshots of table-legs and vinyl discs. It was human. It was gentle, in fact. The photograph was black and white, but her face was noticeably duskier in comparison to the white of her eyes. Her cheekbones were highlighted in her softly rounded face and her dark hair had sprayed across one cheek. The next image was the same, but the lens was zoomed into the area around her eyes. Allan thought it was obscure, considering it was only half of her face in view.

"Who's 'at?" Allan asked, feeling his voice soften.

Will immediately understood which image in the camera's memory Allan was referring to. His ears burned at the realization.

"She's in your class?" Allan cleared his throat.

"She goes to the science discussion group," Will admitted, prizing the camera out of Allan's hands and placing it safely in his lap. He blushed slightly but ran his thumb fondly over the present image on camera screen. The picture that had been zoomed into the girl's eyes was the pride of his collection. Only Will could see the moisture clouding at his model's gaze, hinting at the tears threatening to fall. He saw the sadness in her brave smile and he desperately wanted to know more.

------------

_BENCHES IN CAMPUS_

"Water," Robin smirked, throwing a heavy bottle at Allan, who winced at the volume of his voice.

"Cheers," the tired young man rasped.

Much twisted the frame of his glasses between his fingers in amusement, clucking pitifully at Allan's state of hangover – just to annoy him. Allan sent a weak glare in his direction, which withered in comparison to Much's stern "I told you so."

"I'll see you later," Robin quipped under his breath, running towards a Marian-looking figure in the distance.

"Bye," Will called, smiling as Allan slapped his hands over his ears to muffle the sound of their voices.

"Drink it," Much urged, pushing the mineral water in Allan's direction. He watched as his friend took a weak swig, belching in thanks. Much glared.

"Sorry, mate," Allan grinned sheepishly at his outlet.

"Better out than in?" an airy voice laughed.

Will immediately turned at the sound and ran his fingers through his hair, pushing the dark locks out of his eyes. Allan watched the boy in amusement, throwing a glance at Much, who pushed down his glasses to inspect the girl standing beside their table.

"Hi, Saffiyah," Will muttered and shot up as if the bench were on fire.

Allan recognised her immediately as the girl on Will's camera, albeit the colour was visible in her face – the caramel eyes and olive skin were strange to the black and white tone of the photograph. Still, apart from that, something didn't click about the expression on her face. She seemed kind of cocky and confident, almost wearing a mask. Not at all like the sadly smiling beauty hidden in Will's camera.

"Hey, just thought I'd tell you," she offered, nodding expectantly at Will, "the next science discussion is in about five minutes."

Will simply stared at her for a second. Much sighed, reaching over to push him forward. Luckily, it did the trick and Will snapped out of his daze and hastily stuffed his bag before joining Saffiyah as she walked towards the Science common room. His long stride and her march seemed to fit perfectly as she allured a surprising amount of gabber that had seemed all-too dead in silent Will Scarlet...

----- ------------

_OUTSIDE THE CANTEEN_

Marian was greeted by Robin with a brave slap to the backside. Brave, because she wasn't type of girl who would react readily to such a degrading 'hello', and he knew it. Her image would often let her down, with her sultry chocolate curls and rosy lips, but she did her best to show every male bravado about the campus that she was the boss. And she did _not_ appreciate any hands on her bum.

She gave Robin an angry shove and smugly watching him topple backwards. After recovering from the shock, he picked up his pace and followed her into the canteen. Her sore backside moving elegantly underneath her jeans, he noted.

"Y'know," he panted, jogging to keep up with her fast-paced trot towards the canteen queue, "I was thinking how much you and Desdemona have in common."

Calmly placing a plate on her tray first, she turned towards Robin. "You mean, Desdemona...from Othello?" She cocked an eyebrow.

"Yes," He smirked from under his sweeping fringe.

She had to admit, he was rather cute. Especially when he was eager to please her with knowledge. It was a refreshing change from the guys who wooed her with sleek cars and expensive jewelery – both of which didn't really touch her. But reading Shakespeare was something she treasured very close to her heart, she agreed to herself.

"What kind of things do I have in common with Desdemona?" she asked softly, ladling some potatoes onto her plate.

Robin gave a pleased smile and continued, "You both have open minds," he ticked off his fingers, "both of you are loyal and..."

"And?" Marian smiled, wanting to know just how much of the play he had actually read.

"And you're both beautiful. Like, ideally. You're both attractive..."

'Beautiful'. Marian froze at word and spun on her heel, heading towards the nearest table. The word stung. In a quarter of a second, memories of shouting men and a rough hands dawned on her. The faces of superficial teenage boys and taunting kisses filled her head and she became internally flustered, angry at the memories.

She left a defeated Robin who wanted to slap himself unconscious for ruining such a perfect conversation. He yelled to himself, he knows her well enough to understand that beauty means to her what a crossword means to a playstation addict. Beautiful means nothing. She'd become so accustomed to being praised for her good looks that any compliment is as transparent as glass cup – completely empty. Empty words, Robin growled at himself. Empty, empty words...Which changed the atmosphere within seconds.

Marian's skin pricklde from his feeling his presence still glued to her side."You know what?" sh hissed angrily, "Desdemona _dies_ at the end of the play. Or did you not ask Much about the ending?"

Robin, who had cautiously placed himself in the seat beside her, folded his arms, "Actually, I read it. All of it."

Marian smirked venomously, "Oh, really?"

"Othello kills her, and then he dies in greif, once he finds out that she was genuinely innocent," Robin blurted, "not just beautiful. She's _genuine_. And you're genuine, too -"

"She lied to her husband," Marian spat, grabbing a fork and waving it madly in Robin's stunned face. "And she lost that her husband's handkercheif!"

The final piece of composure in Robin's brain snapped. He forgot how the argument had even started or how ridiculous it sounded, all he could think of is how frustrated she was. How frustrated she was at him.

"Shakespeare made Desdemona's character a completely innocent girl," he countered, meeting Marian's piercing glare.

"Is that what you think of me, too?" Marian scoffed, pressing the fork onto Robin's chest, "just a beautiful, innocent little girl?"

"She's religious and _loyal_," Robin grabbed the fork from her grasp and threw it across the table with a noisy clatter. Eyes around the canteen shifted nervously as the young man raised from his seat, frantic whispering summoning around him.

"Like a chaste little noblewoman," Marian laughed bitterly, also beginning to stand, "who flirts with Cassio, may I remind you."

"She married the man she loved, even though her Dad was completely against it," Robin argued, his memory sweeping over every line of the book.

"Then she's nothing like me," Marian rolled her eyes, "my Dad loved you when we used to see each other."

Robin smiled triumphantly, "So we're talking about _us_, now?"

Marian felt herself turn pink and shook herself to remove any sign of embarrassment. "No. We're talking about Desdemona."

"Right. And Othello."

"Yeah," she hissed, feeling insulted by his correction, "He _killed _her."

"I know."

There was a steady pause. Brains ticking, spectators whispering about the absurd topic of the couple's argument. Robin felt himself cringe at the thought of actually arguing over a play written by Shakespeare, but Marian didn't seem to care too much.

"I cried at the ending," Marian admitted childishly.

"He made a mistake, killing her," Robin gulped, "She was perfect."

They looked at each other for a painful second, their hearts beating wildly. "Did you make a mistake, leaving me? Do you admit it?" she whispered, tucking an escaping strand of brown hair behind her ear.

"I admit it," Robin nodded, his blue eyes meeting hers. "And you're exactly like her."

Marian sighed. Here we go again, she thought to herself. "How?" she asked in a bored tone, for the umpteenth time.

"You're a strong woman," Robin stated.

Marian felt her lips part in astonishment. Nobody had ever praised her for her strength.

"Strong and perfect," he finished, eyeing any escape routes out of fear that he'd receive a punch to his face.

Without warning, a rush of adrenalin flooded through Marian's veins and her hands secured either side of Robin's face. She urgently pressed her lips to his, feeling him respond gleefully. The couple received a round of applause from the cooing canteen audience and pulled away hastily, feeling like a silly romantic display. Robin felt his chest swell in relief, that did not just happen, he warned himself. She...kissed him?

"So," Marian giggled, grabbing Robin's arm and dragging themselves away from the crowd, "you actually read the book?"

"Yeah," Robin shrugged, wrapping an arm around her waist, "I was up all night."

"Really?"

"Just to impress you, Desdemona," he grinned.

---- ---------------------

I hope you like!

It's my first attempt at contemporary Robin Hood.

I threw in the drunk Allan, wise Much, lovesick Will, mysterious Saffiyah and RobMaz bickering.

Summary: 1) The gang meet up at a party. 2) The gang, minus Robin, meet Saffiyah. 3) Robin and Marian fight and make up.

And I hope, if any of you have never read Othello, that everything kind of made sense. Perhaps? Maybe?

Next up, we should be meeting Little John. YAYS.

Leave me a reviewww, please? x


	2. Say

_SCIENCE COMMON ROOM_

The science study discussion group was rather small, to the shock of most of the devoted scientists about Nottingham Campus. Some of girls felt the need to appear mature and winced their way through mugs of expresso whilst crossing their legs in a librarian fashion. Most people were sprawled across grey, foam settees and drumming their fingertips on the coffee tables, waiting for somebody to think of a revelation.

Will preferred to lean over his incredibly elongated legs and listen to conversations about the latest inventions to the scientific world...though not as much as he enjoyed Saffiyah's company. She was dressed in a loose shirt which was half-tucked into her denim skirt. Her dark hair was feathered across one jaw whilst her eyes glazed over all traces of witty remarks before. Will fought the itch to take another photograph.

"Did you guys hear about the flu pandemic?" Graham, a student from California, broke into the silence.

Medicine? Will searched his brain. He'd watched Holby City a couple of times, did that count? He watched as Saffiyah tucked a strand of black hair behind one ear and shuffled forwards in obvious interest.

"I heard something on the news," Graham added and perked up at Saffiyah's reaction, considering the rest of the discussion group were sound asleep.

"It's coming here...to England?" she gasped, her eyes widening in fear.

"Every so often, there is a global pandemic," he informed, adjusting his enormous wristwatch, "thousands of people die due to it, you could call it a plague, I guess."

"What can we do?" Saffiyah almost pleaded, looking into Will's eyes to see if he was as panicked as she was. He gave her a helpless shrug in return, feeling slightly amazed at her emotion. Maybe he was finding out exactly what this girl was hiding behind those upset eyes. "People are going to die?"

Will noticed how vulnerable Saffiyah sounded and reached across the coffee table to pat her hand, "Don't worry," he reassured her.

"Well," Saffiyah looked at the bored faces around them whilst chewing her lip, "I'm worrying."

Graham waved off her concern with the flick of a heavy-watch-laden wrist, "Saff, the government are taking action," he noted, "They're making vaccines as we speak."

As a queue of people flooded the science common room and the discussion group was forced to leave, Will mouthed 'Saff' in disgust. Who is this Graham guy? But Saffiyah didn't seem to care about her new nickname and more about the flu pandemic. She was running over prodecures in her head so thoroughly, as they made their way to the benches, that she didn't think of saying 'hi' when Allan had joined their walk towards the outer-edge of the campus.

"What's up?" Allan nodded his head at the pair, flicking a bead of sweat from his brow.

Will wrinkled his nose, "Where've you been?" he hissed at the pungent smell errupting from his friend.

"The gym, mate," Allan grinned, jumping energetically up and down. Resembling a pogo-stick, Will thought."This _odour_, you smell, is -"

"Rank?" Will offered.

"Is the scent of a man," Allan corrected, running animated circles around Will and Saffiyah with a determined smile. "Anyways, how was your science thing?"

"Fantastic," Saffiyah smiled broadly and plunged her hands coldly into her pockets as she marched ahead of the boys.

Will exchanged a glance with Allan and filled him in on the pandemic topic behind her back. Allan gave a competitive snort and jumped onto the bench that Saffiyah was approaching. He mustered a delighted grin as Will and Saffiyah sat on either of him and quickly suggested the precious subject of ice cream.

"Isn't the boss of England going to set up flu jabs, though?" Allan asked as Will reluctantly jogged towards the 99Flake van, coins in his hand.

"Only when they're sure," Saffiyah sighed, feeling like the topic would never leave her brain, "and families will die in the meantime."

"Will die?" Allan chuckled, "don't you mean they _might _die?"

Noticing that the flu-obsessed girl wasn't going to change her attitude, Allan put a slightly clammy arm around her and gave one shoulder a friendly squeeze. Her body was wedged firmly underneath his armpit and he felt her small frame freeze beside him. "Do I smell that bad?" he laughed

Saffiyah chuckled, "Yeah."

Shrugging off Allan's arm, she smiled as Will approached them with three dripping pink cones in his hands. Will smiled back, though a little uncertainly.

--- -----------

_ROOM 242_

Marian nervously rapped her knuckles on the door and Will obediently leaped up from his bed and showed her into their dormitory room. "Robin's not here yet," he mumbled, returning to his curled up position and leafing through a mechanics book. Allan lifted his head from his pillow to give Marian a welcoming wave, before returning to his nap.

"It's freezing," she shrieked, rubbing her pale arms furiously.

Boys, Marian frowned. The window was wide open and she shivered in response to the chill. Magazines were carelessly strung around the radiator and orange triangles of Doritos were scattered across the desks, which she scooped up into her hand and brushed into the crammed bin with a disgusted expression on her face.

"Can I close the window?" she asked politely, and Will's tangle of dark hair nodded slightly.

"No," Much mumbled, emerging from the bathroom with a foamy toothbrush in his mouth, "itth open for a rea-thon!"

Marian stared. She'd never seen Much wearing a green vest and ripped shorts, and she certainly didn't think he could ever look so – casual. Much was always kitted in neat jeans and formal sweater-vests , all set with a pair of streamlined specs. Allan, on the other hand, was practically naked and had fallen asleep on his front with one arm dangling off his bed.

After concluding that the windows were open to allow air to circulate the stuffy room, considering a certain Allan 'A Dale was reluctant to shower until after his weight-lifting session, Marian made herself comfortable on Robin's bed and busied herself by folding the several pairs of boxers (which were cleverly hidden beneath his duvet).

The door squeaked, anouncing that somebody was about to enter the room.

"How did archery coaching go?" Marian called with an eager smile, believing it was Robin.

"Sorry, it's me," a deep voice rasped.

She flushed in mild humiliation as John Little, their dorm counsellor, stepped into the room. His giant form formed a dark, hairy plug in the doorway and his tiny tie squeezed his neck so tightly that it looked like it was suffocating him. Apart from his quite brutish image, the man had kind eyes that radiated a startling warmth. He was a dorm advisor of few words, but his heart weighed many pounds.

"Hi, Mr Little," Will, who had taken a curious liking to their advisor, raised his head from the mechanics book and muttered a soft greeting.

"William," Mr Little nodded roughly, settling himself down on a chair.

Marian moved stickily, not wanting to be caught handling boys' underwear, so quickly tucked Robins' boxers back under his duvet and mustered a polite smile. She was wondering if there was any kind of one-on-one guy counseling session she was interrupting and had the urge to hastily leave the dorm with a squeak, but Mr Little settled himself heavily on the end of the bed and didn't give her any hint for a need of privacy.

"I'm guessing you have news," Much whispered, darting towards the door and securing it closed.

News? Marian frowned, what news? Was this some kind of secret spy mission of the dorm advisor committee? She'd noticed that even Allan had ended his nap to hear Mr Little's kind words and had flopped onto his back intently, waiting for their advisor to speak. The dorm advisor adjusted his neck tie awkwardly.

"I'm coming out of the job," John murmured.

"Oh," Will pulled the heavy mechanics book off his legs and stood in shock. The blood thrummed in his ears. "You were really fired?"

John fidgeted with his collar, "I will be," he continued, "the principal has a plan."

"What kind of plan?" Much gasped, "they're throwing us out? I knew it!"

Allan frowned at his panicking friend.

"Aren't you getting ahead of yourself?" Marian interrupted, finding this news absurdly rash. There must surely be a reasonable explanation for all of this, she told herself.

Will shot a dark look towards the startled female, "They're kicking out scholars all over Nottingham university."

Much leaped up, chewing anxiously on the frame of his slim glasses, "And the funds are raising ridiculously. Everybody from middle-class," he spat, "are going to be forced to drop out. That's why Mr Little's losing his job!"

Marian flinched at the word 'middle-class'. She knew, if the Nottingham society was to be divided into groups, she would naturally end up amongst the principal and the wealthier students. All thanks to her father. Sadly, Will and Allan were on a scholarship and even elegant Much didn't exactly buy his spectacles from the designer isle in Vision Express.

"Will you bloody calm down," Allan roared, feeling the tension gradually increase. His face was beginning to turn a furious shade of red, despite telling everybody to quit panicking.

"We're done for, we're done for," Much whispered, pacing from one side of the room to the other. "This is the _end_ of our further education."

Marian jumped up as if they was a spring attached to her rear and grabbed hold of Much's shoulders. His blue eyes widened, if it were possible, and glanced in terror at her firm grasp on either side of his neck. "Please, tell me this," Marian spoke slowly and clearly, "why would Principal Vaysey do this?"

"Money," Will hissed at Marian, "where do you think the money will go?"

Marian bit her lower lip and turned to face the angry younger student, "But my Dad is a governer," she began, "surely he has a say in this."

Much shook his head feverishly, rubbing his shoulders where Marian had just clawed him. "No. They've tried. They've tried _everything_."

"Not being funny," Allan interrupted, pointing a reasoning look at Marian, "but this scheme has being going on since I was a freshman. If your Dad knew about the dirty facts, he'd have told you by now, innit?"

There was a defeated silence in the room. Marian dropped her body onto the bed in surrender, breathing hard. She wasn't going to give up. Nobody in the room were ready to give up. This university was their home, and as tedious as the lectures were, they needed their education. They needed to secure their _future_.

Much, unable to contain himself in the stress, suddenly snatched a discarded envelope from the crisp-ridden desk and began exhaling noisily into the paper. His friends watched the envelope expand and deflate with guiltily expressions, finding every breath like a tick on a time bomb. They were running out of time. They less words and more action.

"They're making excuses about the tuition costs not being enough in the country, so the money will easily slide into Vaysey's pocket," Mr Little grumbled into the silence, beginning to feel that confiding in these younger men wasn't the best idea. He felt a bond with these kids, as if they had a bigger understanding about the issues and actually _cared _about the welfare of the students, but watching Much hyperventilate wasn't the best result.

"I heard," replied a familiar voice, entering the room with an easy glide.

Every head in the room spun around like children turning towards their superhero. "Robin," Marian breathed, as much as she tried to disguise it, she exhaled in utter relief.

"I have a plan," their leader spoke.

-----------

_OUTSIDE THE CAMPUS_

Will felt soothed by Robin's advice to stay calm and go for an evening walk. He couldn't fathom how much he appreciated having Robin beside him, considering he had grown tired of being an example for his younger brother. Something about Robin's words made him trust him, no matter how hair-brained his ideas were.

Will decided to take of Allan's advice and decided to try the whole 'exercise' thing, after all, his best friend often teased him about being bones and no meat. Sprinting past the campus benches and bumping into an elderly couple as he jogged around the pond, he couldn't resist swiping out his camera the minute his feet crunched the gravelly soil of Sherwood Forest.

The darkness of the tree bark and the pale clouds contrasted into something so beautiful that Will couldn't help but steal it, capturing it with a flash of his camera. He walked further into the green foliage, feeling lightheaded as the black dots of geese flew from a dizzying height above the forest. _Snap_. _Snap_. Done, he smiled as the flock of birds escaped England's winter. They were such a clash against the blue sky.

The air was bitterly cold and the shivering student jammed one hand into his pocket, the other hand still playing with the flash button of his camera. The scent of damp soil and musty woodsmoke was nauseating and he flinched as a gust of wind blew through the tear in his jeans, sweeping through his overgrown fringe and piercing through his jacket. He nearly dropped his camera.

Will wasn't sure whether the goose pimples errupted on his skin from the stinging cold, or from the sight of a familiar-looking girl crouched in the heart of the forest. She was alone and very, very still. He hardly dared to breathe, in fright that the woman before him would vanish out of his camera lens.

"Saffiyah?" he whispered aloud, partly shocking himself with the sound of his voice.

What was she doing? Is she crazy? Will frowned. His curiosity took over and he immediately crouched behind the nearest shrub, panting, preferring to simply watch her before summoning the courage to approach her.

Saffiyah was hugging her knees, leaning solemnly against the roots of an oak tree, her head bowed. Her black hair was covering most of her face, tangling into her long lashes and pinched between her soft lips. Will slowly moved the camera before him and zoomed into her face, stunned at the crystal tear that slid gracefully down a golden-skinned cheek. Her slim arms were gripping her body tightly, and the curve of her waist was defined through her baggy T-shirt.

Taking a photograph of her seemed rude and violating and Will cursed at himself as he tucked the camera back into his pocket. He dislodged his gangly limbs from the shrub and walked slowly towards the trembling girl.

"Saffiyah?"

She froze. Every soothing sway of branches in the forest suddenly seemed taunting and she reached up and angrily swiped the tears off her face. Will? What was he doing here?

"Are you -"

"I'm fine," she snapped, sounding as harsh as she intended. But the moment she felt a hand close over her elbow and a pair of green eyes sink into her own, she wished she could reach out and snatch back those angry words.

"You don't look fine," Will swallowed, feeling slightly ashamed at his ruthless grasp on her arm. However, she didn't move away. "This isn't about the flu pandemic, right?"

Saffiyah spluttered into a giggle and the pair of them relaxed, shaking with laughter at the absurd suggestion. They were both crouched on the damp forest floor, mere inches away from each other. Gasping through breaths, she shook her head, "no, no, no."

Will timidly placed a thin arm around Saffiyah's waist, giving her a weak hug. She stopped laughing immediately. The heartache that had been swelling inside her, creating this balloon of disguised anger, exploded at Will's sensitive touch. She wasn't expecting it and she was horrified as the emotion errupted before her.

"It's alright," Will whispered, pulling her sobbing body closer.

"No," Saffiyah coughed, "it's not."

"Tell me."

"It's just that, I don't know. I miss my folks." She turned away, swallowing her salty tears as she spoke. "My family died last year from tuberculosis, in Saudi Arabia."

Will frowned anxiously, "TB?" and frowned harder at her confirming nod. "Isn't that wiped out?"

"There's a deadlier strain of the virus in the middle east," she gave bitter laugh, "I was in England, sitting exams, and they all went on holiday to _die_."

"Don't say that," he mumbled into her hair. "If you had a cure, you'd have saved them."

"Today is anniversary of my Mum's funeral," she whispered, leaning into his body. "And hurray," she gave a mocking cheer, "there's going to be a pandemic, right _here_. So more families will die."

Will stopped running his fingers through her hair, warning himself not to mention the current situation going on in Nottingham university. He chuckled again, "You never worried this easily when I first met you."

"I did. But I hide it well," she smirked, regaining her composed stature and cocking a confident eyebrow.

"You can't hide anything from me," Will smiled, daring to reach up and push down her arrogant eyebrow.

"You're right," she agreed, relaxing again.

Will knew he was a man who found beauty in contrast...The way a vinyl disc would give birth to a pale glow. The way white snow would rest on dark wood. His chest grew tight in pleasure as the dark silhouette of the branches cast a crooked arm across the pale clouds. He loved how Saffiyah feisty attitude with Allan would contrast with the delicate nature of the healer, hiding beneath the surface. Only he could see it.

After the sound of Saffiyah's crying melted away into the growing dusk, Will sneaked a peek at their hands, which were clasped together. He couldn't help but marvel at the way her golden skin mingled with his pale fingers. It was beautiful. Almost as sweet as Saffiyah's teary smile against the ugly bark of the oak tree.

-- ----------

OOOKAY.

I hope you guys aren't suffocating from the sentiment. I just needed to throw in the WillSaff. Forgive me?

The sweaty Allan was necessary, too. I'm sorry. But you have to admit, he's hot when he's perspiring.

Sooo we have a sheriff-style situation forming...which should continue in the next chapter. I promise some more ZING! and less of the panic/angst business.

Please tell me what you think! Reviews are loved.

xxx


	3. That

_WAITING ROOM OF PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE_, _NOTTINGHAM UNIVERSITY_

"Please," Marian smiled softly, walking her delicate fingers up his muscular chest. However, the young man wasn't fooled and pulled her away by the wrist. Damn. Marian clenched her teeth in frustration. What did she do wrong? She was wearing a pink blouse, specifically _pink_ – which is supposed to provoke sensitive emotion in men, as it said in the newspaper article. Oh what the hell, she should simply stripped down to her underwear. Men wouldn't even see a flaming firework if it wasn't wearing a thong, she reminded herself.

"Marian," Guy smirked at the disappointed student, placing a cold finger beneath her chin, "look at me."

She lifted her head, remembering to flutter her lashes vigorously. "Mmmh?"

"I will try," he whispered, his breath lingering on her cheek for second too long. With that, Guy Vasey glided away from her body and strutted into his father's lair, his leather biker jacket leaving a blinding sheen in Marian's eyes. The sign on the door read – Principal's Office.

"Great," Marian groaned, eyeing her watch impatiently. "Just, great."

The waiting room was dotted with neatly arranged visitors, dressed in brown tweed and resting stylish clipboards on their laps. She smiled politely as one woman offered her a seat, although, the second before she reached the chair, a loud vibration errupted in her back pocket. Marian felt her ears burn as she scrambled for her phone, finding that the receptionist was giving her a scrutinizing glare. She was intelligent enough to receive the hint and shuffled quickly into the corridor.

"Robin?" Marian hissed into her mobile phone, glancing anxiously around the hallway.

"Hi, Desdemona," Robin's voice blared out of the speaker. Even though she couldn't see his face, she could feel the arrogant grin forming on his face. "I'm just wondering how you knew it was me, considering I'm using Graham's phone."

Marian winced, waiting for his next words. "Thinking about me?" he whispered.

"Stop smiling."

"I'm not smiling!" Robin protested, grinning at an annoyed looking Graham, back at the canteen.

"So," Marian tapped her foot impatiently. "What did you want?"

"Did you talk to Principal Vasey?" Robin deepened his voice, sounding serious.

"No," she groaned, "Guy Vasey said he would try, so hopefully I'll be able to see him soon."

"Is he reliable?"

"Well, he's usually true to his word, so fingers crossed -"

"Oh, really?"

"Yes."

"How do you know him?" Robin asked, a suggestive tone to his voice.

Marian was immediately faced with an irritated secretary, who had strutted into the corridor to announce that she was finally allowed to attend a meeting with the principal. Giving a grateful nod to the flustered woman, Marian quickly quipped down the phone "I'm going in now. Bye, Robin."

----- ----

_PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE_

The office was stunning, Marian admitted. The size of the room itself was staggering. Especially the height of ceiling, which dangled an exquisite chandelier above Principal Vassey's mahogany desk. There were towering trophies ladening the shelves and a bowl of fresh plums was sitting elegantly beside his laptop. Marian inhaled, summoning enough courage to open her mouth.

"Chop chop, Missy," a voice cackled.

Marian's eyes swivelled towards the surprisingly short, balding man who had been sat behind the bowl of plums. There was a bored gleam in his eye as he rested one cheek on a wrinkled hand, waving the other impatiently to stimulate her to talk.

"Sir, I'm here to -"

"Oh _lah di dah_," Principal Vasey yawned, "I know why you're here. I talked to your _daddykins_ already."

Marian resisted an irritated frown. "So why is the system being corrupted?"

After slamming his jaw up and down in a fish-like mouth movement, in order to imitate the student stood before him, the principal grinned,"this is how the government works nowadays, darling." He bared row of shark teeth, with one tooth glinting gold.

Marian crossed her arms, "I see. And the government throws students out on the street?"

"Erm," Vasey scratched his head, peering at his solemn looking son, who was leaning against the trophy cabinet. "Why, ye-eees!"

"Sir, I don't want to be rude, but this is unheard of. Have the council not checked the funds?"

After plunging into a juicy plum, Vasey narrowed his eyes fiercely at a startled looking Marian, "Listen to me, girl," he snarled through his mouthful, "don't you _dare_ wriggle your hips into here and try to outsmart the head of this university, especially when your poor daddy's job is in the palm of _my_ hand. And, may I add something else?"

"What?" Marian glared at a silent Guy, who turned away to avoid her eyes. Her angry gaze flickered back to his father, who was chewing away at the plum in his hand.

"Wearing pink isn't going to stimulate any kind of pity from the principal, Missy," he laughed cruelly, pointing at Marian's blouse. "And, pssst! - _I can see your bra_."

Marian clenched her fists.

------- ------

_ROOM 242_

"Well," Allan grinned, peering at Marian's chest, "It's kind of transparent."

"Not the_ point_," Marian glowered, punching his arm swiftly. "Other than being completely rude, he didn't consider anything I said."

"So there's really no hope?" Much collapsed his body onto the carpet. He looked anxiously at the rather quiet Robin leaning against the door frame, "Robin?"

"I thought you said that Guy could be trusted," Robin gently accused Marian.

"He can, usually," Marian defended, "but his father obviously can't."

Robin shrugged with acceptance. After a few moments he began to chew on his bottom lip in thought, ideas spinning animatedly through behind his eyes. Much sat back on his heels and waited desperately for his friend to conjure up an idea.

"We have to tell everybody to prepare themselves," Robin whispered.

"What about us?" Much gasped, "we're in danger ourselves!"

"Don't worry, I can still get information from the principal," Marian comforted him, "I am still part of the inner circle."

"And I still have a plan," Robin added. "We can't stop this happening, but we can support the students from suffering."

Allan chortled at his friend's bold statement, aiming a sharp dart at the Principal Vasey poster plastered to the ceiling. "We're going to help _every_ kid in sight, when we're in a tricky cash situation ourselves?" he scoffed. This sharp needle was heading right between Vasey's front teeth.

With a swift jump, Robin grabbed the dart before it stabbed the ceiling and threw it swiftly across the dorm, towards the Nottingham University calendar. He nailed the university emblem accurately, perfectly pinpointed. Allan raised his eyebrows, impressed.

"Nope," Robin announced, smiling at his perfect shot. His eyes flashed with a devilish scheme. "We're going to help the whole campus."

"You're crazy, mate," Allan sighed.

"He is," Much gabbled whilst pushing his glasses further up his nose from nodding so vigorously in agreement, "He's clinically _insane_."

-------- ----------

_CORRIDOR, EAST WING OF CAMPUS_

Saffiyah swore to herself, crouching low to the ground to gather her scattered books. The university didn't give free bags to students who opted for extra Biological Studies – a shame, since it was a subject that required a staggering amount of text books.

Another pair of large hands reached down and firmly slapped the heavy books into a pile, right before her Saffiyah's stunned eyes. The colossal man carried them towards her dormitory with ease.

"Thanks," she gushed.

"No problem." Mr Little placed the tower of textbooks into the girl's arms and watched her knees buckle under the weight. "perhaps your should get a trolley," he chuckled.

"Or a wheelbarrow," Saffiyah groaned, wondering just how she was going to get ahold of her keys.

"You might want to photocopy some of the information from the books," Mr Little nodded gravely, "with the situation at hand."

"Situation?" she inquired with interest, "what situation?"

Mr Little shifted uncomfortably. He didn't want to be the bearer of ill news, but the student didn't seem to have a clue about the crisis in Nottingham. "Are you a scholar?" he carefully asked.

"Yes," Saffiyah replied slowly, wondering where this conversation was going.

Great, Mr Little sighed reluctantly to himself. This kid was in serious trouble. "Scholarships are..." he searched for the correct word, as being a such a blunt dorm advisor he hadn't really taught himself any tact. "Well, the scholarships are becoming _unstable_."

"Erm, I don't think I'm clear."

"Scholars are being made to pay tuition funds," Mr Little smiled sadly, "and the funds have doubled."

There was a deafening slam as several books hit the ground one by one. The noise echoed throughout the corridor and Mr Little winced at the sound.

"You're joking, right?" Saffiyah laughed bitterly, her caramel eyes disbelieving.

"I'm sorry," Mr Little apologized. He felt a surge of anger rip through him, knowing that this was only the first time he'd have to deliver such news.

Saffiyah's heart was thudding in terror. She was incredibly fortunate to land herself a scholarship, as other universities weren't too keen on doling out free tuitions, and the opportunity was being dragged from under her already. Did life have to sweep her off her tired feet and drop her down so quickly?

This can't be true, she panicked to herself. She had no family to support her in England, no money...The university had paid for her lodgings and catering, which she was endlessly grateful for. But even now, she could barely afford buying T-shirts from the discarded sale racks and shampoo from the clearance isles. How would she continue her education? Where would she live?

Only one person was revolving through Saffiyah's anxious mind. He was the only person who would know how to calm her nerves with the touch of his pale hand. That person was Will Scarlet.

--------- ------------------

Hey, thank you:** Mizco, Shanyde, Shanima, MAR17ian, littlemissmaster, CalonLan, Mira-and-Allan,** **LittleMissSparkles, RocMySox **and **vultures** for the kind reviews.

Summary:

We have a hint of Marian trying to manipulate Guy with her cursed femininity. (Where have we seen that before..?)

We meet the principal.

Patriotic Robin Hood alert!

Little John drops the bomb on Saffiyah. Poor girl.

Up next, the university is in serious trouble. Luckily, the gang have a plan. However, things are becoming a little heated amongst our beloved campus rebels...

Shall we have more WillDjaq fluff? MuchAllan humour? Please share your opinions!

Much love,

K.A xxx


	4. Behind

_NOTTINGHAM UNIVERSITY CAMPUS_

The riot had begun in Nottingham University.

Voices screamed in rising fear across the campus and throats burned in response. Bitter chants were rising incredulously in pitch. Fists were grasping bold banners. Jaws tightened eyes narrowed. Angry tears fell quietly as neon figures dragged away siblings and close friends, their bodies twisting and kicking...Voices gasped in horror at the sight unraveling before their eyes and students scrambling away in surrender.

"Guards," Mr Little growled through his teeth, glaring at the neon bodies forming a thick barricade around the principal's main department.

The noise only grew louder, the riot had been scattered but the protesters were enraged.

"It's over," Much's voice trembled as a helicopter hummed above the buildings. The rough hand of the dorm advisor pulled him backwards as the blades cut through the air, churning a current through their hair.

The body of the helicopter looked down the thousands of miniature faces, most of them pale and shellshocked. Every yell was slow, grey. Every blink of the eye was dangerous as students ran, carelessly and ruthlessly away from the whirring noise of the giant body. Hearts hammered painfully in weak ribcages and the blood hummed through every body in sheer anticipation of doom.

A deafening voice rasped from above their heads, shattering every eardrum in campus. "Robin Hood," it blared, "this protest was arranged by you."

Much's pulse throbbed loudly in his ears at the noise as the whole campus was silenced by the louspeaker. They were mentioning his best friend, he shouted to himself. His best friend was in trouble. This was it. And he knew in his heart that there was no turning around and starting fresh, not now, there was no leaving Nottingham.

"Before we command for extra security, I suggest you clear the area," the nasal voice split through the air.

"We're done for," Allan croaked.

"This is it," Robin whispered. "This is it!" he roared. With a swift jump, he clambered onto the benches on the edge of the campus, barking orders at the masses of frustrated young adults. Their voices kicked up a blinding burst of adrenalin, stimulating him to run faster along the wooden beams and defend the rest of the youth. This is it. This was the turning point.

The loud intructions were enough for Marian and she immediately flew into action. Her breath was heavy and her hair lashed against her cheeks as the helicopter moved southwards. Her azure eyes darted urgently for the nearest student. She spotted a frightened boy trembling against the walls of the main building and ran towards him, "here," she cried, pressing a crumpled piece of paper in his hand.

"What -" the young man stammered, his eyes scanning across the small note.

"Meet there at five in the afternoon," she panted into his ear before sprinting towards the couple of girls cowering underneath a bench.

--------- -------------

_UNDERGROUND DERELICT BASEMENT_

The bulb coughed up enough light for the small room to receive dull glow, sparks errupting from the wire. The switch was faulty, but the sullen faces of the gang could be made out in the darkness.

Robin's eyes shifted calmly around the group. "Has everybody on site received a meeting place?"

"Yes," Marian whispered, her lungs still heaving.

"Yeah, but Vasey will catch 'em out before they get to open their mouths," Allan argued, only to be silenced by Robin's palm.

"So Mr Little has passed on the message to the other teachers?"

"Secret classes are taking place in the discarded technology rooms," Much confirmed, chewing his lip cautiously.

Robin nodded his head in approval, his eyes swimming over each of his friends' faces. "And we can arrange shelter and provisions for students, under cover. Simple."

The boys looked at each other, realization slowly dawning in on their faces. It was really happening. They were really allowing the poorer students of Nottingham University to continue their education, secretly. They were really fighting the system and it was...terrifyingly exciting. But, in Much's case, it was simply terrifying.

"So," Much swallowed, "are we criminals, now?"

Allan chuckled, "Yeah, I s'pose so. Sneaking students free lectures behind the law and all."

"And we're going to live in _this_ basement?" Much clarified. He crossed his arms in discontent. It was terribly dark, with fragments of glass along the carpet. There were no beds in sight and there was simply one sink nailed to the wall with a dull scum shrouding the enamel surface.

Allan scratched his neck, twisting his head around to scan the rest of the bleak prison, "Are we supposed to piss outside, then?"

"Obviously," Much whispered angrily, feeling extra irritated by the thought. He longed for warm water and pure hygeine, two things he was not sure he would ever receive in the next few years. His back ached terribly and his body was exhausted from the previous riot.

"You could all simply move into my dorm," Marian argued, glaring at Robin.

Robin cocked an eyebrow at her. She knew fine well that Vasey was on the lookout for him and she definitely be the first person they'd approach. Luckily, Marian was not excluded from the university as her father was wealthy enough to support her even through the ridiculous rise in tuition fees. Without saying a word, the whole gang understood the advantage of this. She could pass on information from the leaders of the university, and maybe smuggle rations of food from the canteen.

"Much, we're criminals." Robin stated coolly.

Much lifted his head sadly.

"But we're not sinners. We're fighting for a good cause,"

-- --------------------------

_ROOM 565_

Will pulled the dark hood of his loose sweater over his head, sneaking a glance to the left and right of the corridor. He quickly slid his phone from his pocket and opened the latest text message to his inbox, checking the room number in the text. 565. Saffiyah's room, he confirmed to himself. He hesitated then knocked urgently on the mahogany door.

"Who is it?" a timid voice hissed through the keyhole.

"Dooh Nibor," he whispered the code, which was the reverse of the well-known campus freedom fighter, 'Robin Hood'.

The door opened within a second and slammed closed immediately,Will only just managing to slip into the room without his arm being sliced in half. He gave a brave smile to the student who had allowed him inside; a nervous redheaded girl with freckles sprinkled along the bridge of her nose. She gave a grateful squeak as Will drew out a packet of biscuits from under his sweater and placed it in her shaking hands.

"Sarah?" Saffiyah emerged from the bathroom, her eyes narrowed. "Is it an officer?" Her dark hair had been scraped into an untidy ponytail and she was dressed in a lavender vest and shorts, which were torn and patched by her own hand. She looked fragile, although her eyes were aflame, against the florescent 80's posters pasted to the walls.

"It's me," Will blushed, completely forgetting the intent of his important visit. His eyes widened automatically as she skid into the bedroom wearing her quite revealing pyjamas. Very cute pyjamas, Will corrected himself.

Sarah saw the tinge creep up the gangly boy's cheeks and decided to shuffle into the next room to devour the packet of biscuits, which had been first piece of food she'd touched in days. She left behind a very relieved looking Saffiyah who was eagerly pressing Will for answers.

"I heard about," Saffiyah made a brief gesture with her hand, chatting quickly, "Robin Hood, or 'Dooh Nibor'...Anyway, the lectures are still happening?"

Will nodded curtly in response, "Dooh Nibor, yeah. We're making sure that the classes are going on in the technology rooms, underground."

"Yes, yes," she babbled, "So I heard. So, will me and Sarah still be able to lodge here?"

"Saffiyah. They're checking the rooms. You'll have to go."

Saffiyah's face fell.

Will felt his chest ache as he watched the girl strained a smile through her worry. She immediately began spinning around to gather the objects lying on her bed. Her lips were stretched into a tight line and her arms were moving like clockwork, rapidly flying about her head to place her belongings in a pile. Books, socks and paper envelopes moved swiftly in her grasp as she arranged her heap of valuabled. Her eyes were so focused with determination that Will didn't dare breathe.

"Stop it," Will gasped.

"Stop what?" she grinned, looking slightly possessed.

"What are you doing?" Will hissed, his green eyes flickering over her every flounder beneath his unruly fringe.

"I have to move," she stated, her voice sounding incredibly calm with determination as she folded her clothes. "You have room, right?"

As much as the young man desperately wanted to protect and be near his friend, Will knew that the basement was no place to live. It was cold and unhealthy, and their circumstances were so unsafe that the gang could end up placing Saffiyah in grave danger if Vaysey's officers ever caught her in the middle of a scheme. It'd be worse than dropping out of Nottinham University. She'd be branded as a law-breaker. Her future could be tarnished. "No."

"Where are you _staying_, then?" Saffiyah whispered curiously, settling down on the pile of clothes in surrender.

Will scratched behind his ear, "I'm staying at our hideout, with Robin."

"That'll do," she insisted.

"It's no place for a girl to live," he began, "It's in the broken basement, opposite the caretaker's room."

"What's wrong with that?" Saffiyah snapped. She couldn't believe that the boy was stifling her freedom by making lame excuses about her sex. He knew fine well that after her family died, she was living in rough standards and had coped fairly well. "A basement sounds like heaven to me."

"But it's damp and there's no shower," Will's voice broke in anxiety.

"I can cope."

"It's freezing down there."

"Honestly. I have blankets," she rolled her eyes impatiently.

"There's no toilet or beds," his voice began to rise in volume, "and only God knows how long we'll manage to stay in hiding."

"It's better than being thrown out on the street," Saffiyah spat, one-handedly removing a battered suitcase from under her bed. "Or I could just work as a barmaid in the nearest pub."

The thought of Saffiyah frolicking around drunken men in an apron made Will's skin crawl in fear. He could never have that. Never. The thought of hairy knuckles creeping up her dress and shameless money-raising ideas that young women could live on in pure desperation overpowered Will's denial. He switched sides. "Fine. You're coming with me." he ordered. "Now."

The olive-skinned girl stopped ranting angrily and paused in bewilderment. "What?" whispered.

Will cringed at the forthrightness of his words and blushed. "We need to hurry. Have you packed everything?"

Once she'd recovered from the shock, Saffiyah smiled and began to zip up her suitcase...

-- ----------- --

With a relaxed stride, Marian approached the student mini-market with an eager grin on her face, pointing thirstily at the various foods on the shelves. "May I have a cottage pie, five baked beans, tinned carrots and, um, the jar of peach slices. Oh, make than _three _cottage pies, please?"

The elderly shop owner hobbled onto his step-ladder with a frown, grabbing the requested items. He shook his head tiredly as he peered through his spectacles at the food lables. "Having a feast tonight, are we?"

"Yes," Marian stated. Good excuse.

"I miss being a kid," he croaked, dropping the food into a carrier bag, "but I don't remember eating tinned carrots at parties, in my day."

"I'm a vegetarian," Marian quipped, dashing out of the mini-market with her groceries.

By the time she reached the canteen, needing to grab a handful of plastic forks, she was feeling quite pleased with herself. This should keep their ravenous stomachs full for a day, she smiled to herself and stashed a handful of cutlery into the heavy carrier bag. Men.

---------

_DERELICT BASEMENT_

"Here," Robin chucked a can of baked beans across the musty room towards Allan, who allowed the metal object to roll into the opposite wall with a weak frown.

"It's _food_," Much swept onto his feet extravagantly, snapping the can open for himself and digging a plastic fork into the contents. "Aren't you hungry? I'm starving."

"Not being funny, but I feel a bit sick."

"Try drinking some water," Saffiyah offered, who had been crouched attentively in the corner of the basement, unrolling a blanket.

"Tried that."

"Lager doesn't count, Allan," Much uttered through a mouthful of beans. "It'll just build up gas, which will make you feel even worse until you _burp_; something that you are the _master_ of."

Allan chuckled lightly through his stomach ache, "Well, as I like to say -"

"Better out than in?" Saffiyah completed his sentence, smirking at the boy and clicking her tongue as she spread a blanket on the cold floor.

Will, who was wrapped up in his sleeping bag, had been shameless staring at their new member of the 'Dooh Nibor' gang, memorising the way her dark hair licked her shoulders as she flicked the dirt from her thin duvet. The central heating died away by late evening and he couldn't help but regret bringing her into the chilly basement, noticing how the goosepimples errupted over her golden forearms as she plucked the corners of her duvet.

"Here," Will shuffled to one end of his sleeping bag, patting the other end to catch Saffiyah's attention.

Reluctantly, feeling somewhat like a needy child, Saffiyah rejected her thin blankets and shuffled across the dark room towards the kind student. She crawled into the warm, padded comfort of Will's sleeping quarters with a sheepish smile. Her cold legs accidentally brushed his and she felt his body flinch from the chill. "Sorry," she whispered and pulled the sleepingbag over her chin.

"It's alright," mumbled the reply.

It's alright. Even at the end of a tiring day as a campus rebel, Will couldn't resist smiling to himself as the petite girl curled up beside him sleepily. Her silky, black hair fanned out over his pillow and he loved it.

"It's always alright," he whispered as he succumbed to sleep.

----------------- ----------

Right, peoples. I have posted many chapters in short space of time, seeing as I'll be BUSY BUSY BUSY planning the next chapter for the rest of the week.

I promise that there will be better heated fluff and angst, and I apologise for the lack of AllanMuch humour. My head was spinning over the WillSaff business.

Hope you all appreciated the codename – Dooh Nibor – which is used incase some of Vasey's team overhear Robin's name being used, considering he's supposed to be kicked out of the uni.

Please tell a girl what you think,

Reviews are loved!

xxx


	5. Every

The months had passed slowly over Nottingham University and the days were bitterly cold. The campus glittered with frost and hazardous patches of black ice were scattered over the pavement, including the corridor towards the gang's hideout.

Marian wrapped a pale blue scarf around her face, muffling the chatter of her teeth as she tiptoed underground. The dark basement was just as arctic as outside and she wished she could somehow manipulate the central heating down there, but it would definitely give away Robin's hideout if the caretaker took a gander at the boiler chart.

"Dooh Nibor," she hissed through the keyhole.

"Come in," replied Robin's voice.

With a sigh of relief, Marian twisted the handle of the basement door, only to find herself clinging onto the metal for her dear life. She screamed in agony as her feet flew from under her. With a painful crack, the student landed on her side, gasping Robin's name.

--- - ------------

_DERELICT BASEMENT_

"You should really look before you walk," Robin tutted, watching Saffiyah bind the pale blue scarf around Marian's swollen ankle.

"I didn't think you could get black ice indoors," Marian glowered, feeling positively useless as her leg was hauled onto a pillow.

Robin watched Marian in amusement and allowed a mischevious grin to assault his face, thinking it was time to cheer her up. He crouched, forming a panther shape, in the darkest corner of the basement and watched Marian mutter angrily to herself. He paused, hunching his body and allowing a small growl to rumble through the dark, baring his teeth like a wildcat.

Saffiyah spun around from tending the fractured ankle, wondering what in the world had come over her leader.

Another growl errupted from the dark silhouette, louder this time. The injured patient stopped cursing at her ankle and peered curiously into the shadows.

Letting loose a magnificent roar, Robin leaped across the room to pounce onto his terrified Marian. He sank his teeth into her soft neck, growing thrilled by the protesting squeaks from his prey. "Robin! If you don't let go of me this instant -"

Marian squirmed until, realising that he wasn't going to let her go any time soon, collapsed into his claws in gales of laughter. She gasped through her giggles, "You have _completely_ lost it."

Robin growled into her shoulder in response. She was delicious.

-------- ---------------------

"Marian?"

She paused, clinging to the banisters. Here it comes, she winced.

"What happened?" Guy reached the step she was hobbling on, motioning to the bandage swaddling her leg. This was his chance to apologize, he swallowed, for the quite rude meeting between his father and herself. If there was anything that he could do to earn her respect, it was to show some concern. He noticed that she seemed to enjoy things like that.

"Oh," Marian shrugged hastily, giving her leg a weak jiggle, "just an accident in the canteen. Nothing to worry about."

"It's dangerous down there," he mumbled. "And slippery."

She nodded, fighting the urge to chuckle at the word. The basement _was _dangerous and slippery. But not as dangerous as Robin, she thought as she rubbed the raw toothmarks on her shoulder.

Guy cleared his throat, adjusting his leather jacket as he poised himself. "I suppose you've heard about our Politics class growing smaller."

"Yes," Marian gave a faraway smile, "It's a shame that so many students have been forced to leave."

A 'shame' wasn't the word that Guy was searching for. In fact, he was rather thrilled that he could have the feisty student, more or less, all to himself during their political lectures. But he hid his victorious smirk and gave a breif nod, sauntering down the steps.

Marian simply continued smiling into the distance, rubbing the skin over her neck absentmindedly.

-- ----- ------------

_CHILD DEVELOPMENT DEPARTMENT_

Never again, Mr Little warned himself. Never again was he going to hold his (rather short but insightful) counselling lectures in the underground Child Development department. It had been the only discrete classroom available and he had reluctantly squeezed his troubled students into the small boxroom patterened with Gynaecology pictures, just for the time being.

However, it wasn't the size of the room that bothered him the most. It was the lack of attention from his restless tutees, who were shamelessly gawping at the vivid poster of nude women plastered to the walls. They weren't just simple stick-men science diagrams. They were enlarged to a shocking scale and the private parts were in fine detail.

"Joseph," Mr Little groaned at the distracted student, running a hand over his face.

Allan, who was busy gnawing on the end of his pencil, gave the mesmerised adolescent a sharp wack to the shoulder blades, "C'mon, mate."

Mr Little found it quite interesting how the cocky A' Dale wasn't particularly interested in the colourful, sexual display that was quite literally shoved up his eye sockets. Instead, he was intently chewing on the contents of his pencil case in anxiety. It must be stress from the 'Dooh Nibor' errands, Mr Little sighed to himself.

"So," the dorm advisor cleared his throat noisily, ignoring his uncomfortable surroundings, "I know there have been changes. Big changes."

"Like, the way we're sneaking around the campus," another student replied.

"Yes," Mr Little mumbled, scratching his beard worriedly. "But that doesn't mean that you give up hope. Classes are still continuing, and there are professors who want to help you."

"But we could be in serious trouble," a different voice quipped hastily.

"Yeah," Joseph uttered under his breath as he tore his eyes away from the walls, "us skint gits aren't supposed to be here."

Allan removed the mangled pencil from his mouth angrily, "Oi. S'no way to talk."

"Well I'm right, aren't I?" Joseph argued, "we're in deep shit."

"Please. Calm down," Mr Little grumbled in warning.

"We're in serious shit, sir," Joseph cried, finding his voice shake, "and this Robin Hood stuff isn't going to hold up for long."

"Remember -"

"Yeah, yeah, _Dooh Nibor_," he retorted, crossing him arms and slouching in his chair.

The gang member turned in his seat, swinging his legs over the other side to face Joseph. Grabbing the edge of the next table to lean forward, Allan smiled, "Mate, we are ankle deep in shit. But we're all in shit together. All of us."

Another student wrinkled his nose in disgust, "Nice."

"Listen," Allan flung his body onto the table, daring to cross his legs on top of it, "the only thing we can do now is swim in this shit. It's _shit_, I know. But it's not the bloody apocalypse, is it?"

"Swimming in shit," sniggered Joseph.

"Let's swim through this shit together," came Allan's patriotic reply, "And we'll make it through. Dooh Nibor is helpin' you."

There was a baffled exchange of glances and amused murmurings throughout the classroom. Mr Little returned his hand to his face with an exhausted slap. What a way to encourage the student body.

Nevertheless, he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Allan A'Dale with such electricity in his eyes and so much meaning in his words, never in past two years at Nottingham University. He was a critical package of biceps and golden hair, but there was a supportive shoulder beneath the cocky grin. He was truly a friend to the campus and, as terrible as his speeches may be, he was a valuable member of the campus rebels. The university needed support from people like him.

------------- -------

"Hey," Will skidded through the double doors of the abandoned Technology room to find Saffiyah and her old roommate, Sarah, seated on the front bench. Both girls had their heads bowed solemnly over a book, lips moving soundlessly as they leafed through the pages. "I was wondering where you were," Will swallowed, feeling like an intruder.

"Right here," Saffiyah whistled through her teeth in concentration, eyes still glued to the book.

"Well, Robin wants you to run errands in the science lab. When you're done, I mean."

"We're done," Sarah announced, brushing a lock of red hair from her shoulder and patting Saffiyah's shoulder in a silent goodbye. The olive-skinned girl remained hunched over her work, distracted.

"Medicine?" Will guessed, replacing the seat beside his friend.

Saffiyah frowned. It was obvious that she wasn't going to be allowed any peace and quiet. "No," she sighed, turning another page, "I'm practising Arabic for my private tuition."

"You teach Arabic?"

Will couldn't believe his luck. Not only was she a complete Einstein when it came to medical science, but she was practically bilingual. Could he feel any more unworthy? She was beautiful and intelligent and completely out of reach - like an exotic vase on a high shelf. Life was just unfair.

"I just teach some easy vocab to people outside campus," she grinned at his amazed expression, "today we're learning body parts."

Will nodded silently, squinting at the obscure Arabic lettering resting on the pine bench. The lines were rapid and intricate, twisting into perplexing wiggles and shapes that he imagined only a microscope would be able to read. They didn't look like the english alphabet in the slightest, but resembled the pinchmarks of waves in a long tide.

"Here, I'll teach you," she offered and searched underneath the bench for his fingers. Squeezing his palms, she pronounced "_Yad_. That's hand in Arabic."

"Yad," Will repeated slowly.

Saffiyah bit her bottom lip in thought then quickly grabbed the quiet student's thigh. Will jumped in response, eyes growing wide at her touch. "_Saaq_ is leg," she explained, then noticed the blush creeping to his cheeks and gabbled, "I use this game as a way of helping my tutees remember the words."

"Sack?"

"Yes. And this is your q_alb_," Saffiyah reached forward and pressed her palm to his chest. She had to admit, she was quite enjoying this.

"Heart?"

She nodded. "_Katef_," she placed her hand on the fold of Will's sweater, directly above his shoulder.

"Shoulder," he smiled.

"Correct. And here's your _Anf_," she giggled, moving forward to tweak the end of Will's nose. "And this," her finger ran along his neck, "is the _'onuq_."

His body shivered from her touch. Did she have to? He silently pleaded. It was almost torture knowing that this was merely a game to her but every harmless touch produced a wail of anguish in Will's heart. He closed his eyes to steady himself as Saffiyah ran a soft hand through his fringe and pronounce "_Sha'r_."

Every movement was slower now. Warmth developed between her own skin and his, mingling with the surrounding air as their breathing became laboured in response to the heat. She could feel her own _qalb_ hammering in her chest as her hand roamed his face. What was she feeling? Why couldn't stop herself? Her brain tried desperately to send nerve signals through her fingers, screaming at them to stop moving, but all failed. She gave in, stroking his closed eyelids, softly articulating "'_Ayn_."

The skin over his face was incredibly sensitive and soft. She could feel every flinch and tension of the jaw muscles and her gaze was drawn to his lips, moment after aching moment, like a moth to a flame. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the beckoning curve of his mouth, the pink flesh that was waiting for her to steal. He was always here, Saffiyah told herself. Always trusting and loving you. His tangle of limbs, his dark hair, his fierce green eyes. Her throat was sealed with emotion as she approached his bottom lip with the gentle brush of her fingertips, whispering as she didn't trust herself to speak aloud, "_fam_."

"Fam," Will repeated. Mouth. She was touching his mouth and he didn't dare open his eyes, fearing that she'd tear her warm fingers away.

There was no need to think. No need to speak, as the empty technology room dissolved into oblivion. Reality dissipated and every worry, every errand for 'Dooh Nibor' had vanished from their memory as Saffiyah's mouth replaced her hand and brushed against his lips. The flutter of delicate flesh against flesh, tender and hesitant was the nearing of the mountain peak...Will ran desperately to the edge. Their lips pressed harder, passionately, and his hand moved to the small of her back, urging her closer into their affectionate bliss.

Slowly sucking on her lower lip, Will lost every gram of control and placed his hands on either side of her golden face. He could feel the silk of her cheeks, the gentle movement of her jaw as they kissed; sinking away into ecstasy.

--- -----------

I lied. Muahaha. I added another chapter before I hibernate.

That's FIVE chapters in about 4 days, people. Phew.

I hope you enjoyed the ridiculous amount of fluff. Sighs. Twisted ankles and Arabic tuition...good excuses?

And of course, determined Allan – a character development I just had to throw in.

Reviews are loved! xxx


	6. Courageous

_NOTTINGHAM UNIVERSITY CAMPUS, OUTER BOUNDARIE_S

Moonlight.

The cold strobe of white light flooded over the campus grounds with a celestial glow. It printed shadows under benches and chalked out broken street lights in the midnight blue, making the student's heart flutter with content.

Much rested his weight on his palms and leaned back onto the bench, squinting into the sky. There was something so purifying about being able to relax in the outdoors, free from suspicious officers, clean of Dooh Nibor errands. He couldn't remember the last time he was able to stretch out in daylight, but, with the moon so iridescent and delicious, he couldn't care less. He lifted a hand, trying to dip a finger into the milky disc in the sky...

A drunken clack of stilettos burst into the dark. At the sound of nearing vulgar songs parading into the silence, Much reluctantly ducked under bench. Night clubs, Much sighed. It was definitely the wealthier students who had, once indulged into the heavy cocktails, stumbled out of their taxis with relaxed cheer. Lucky for some, he scorned to himself.

"Who s'at?" a young woman hiccuped, peering into the darkness. Much held his breath.

"'Nell, you're such a tail," her friend laughed, "s'no one there."

There was a muffled punch and another clatter of clumsy footing, "I swear, right. There's a bloke on that bench. Wearin' a hoody..."

"Ooo-er. Could be Bobbin Hood!"

Much snorted from under the depths of his coat.

"Y'know what? YEAH," the girl slurred excitedly, "or one of his mates."

"Shh-shh," a timid voice entered the conversation, "you know, it could be Al or that science magazine girl."

The inebriated companion cooed, "Al A'Dale? that fittie?"

"Oh my God, Rach, he's in my recreational sports lecture. Front row."

"Hook me up, per-lease!?" the boozy voices giggled into the darkness, trailing away as the students neared their accommodation building.

Allan was always the ladies man, Much smiled at the distant echo of gossip. If given the energy, he could count off his fingers and toes the queue of girls waiting in line for the his athletic friend, but knew that popularity didn't mean a thing to his mate. Allan is popular, minus the denial, yet he would always jog away from each giggling fan with groan. The man was never satisfied. He was just so _picky _when it came to the opposite sex. His finicky habits would annoy Much to the core, until his recent understanding that; Allan was popular, yet all he wanted was real _love_ – not a meaningless one night stand. It was like having infinite amounts of biscuits, when all you really desire is pretzels.

Or something like that. On that thought, Much unhooked himself from the bench and slipped towards the discarded basement.

- ---- --- ------ ----

_DERELICT BASEMENT_

"You. Dare," Marian swept her matted hair from her eyes. Her body was sprawled across the polythene mat, her ears burning from Robin's spoken thoughts. She glared angrily at the leader, "You try anything, and I'll make incisions in your manly parts!"

Her bruised ankle was generally shrinking in size, but after testing it with her weight, she decided to place her foot elsewhere. With something that sounded like the cry of a pregnant woman, Marian arched her back and stretched her toe towards the green spot of plastic.

Robin flinched, "make incisions in my - what? And, anyway, it's only only a quick stash. The cooks are asleep."

Saffiyah shook her head tiredly, squeezing her head under Marian's arm to grab hold of the cardboard arrow with her teeth. She jerked the arrow into a spin, hissing, "right foot on blue..." and watched her leader move his body with ease, "we'll need a plan before we raid the kitchens."

"_First_ of all," Marian panted, "the cooks will definitely notice if the fridge is empty. And, besides, I can shop elsewhere for food rations."

"You can't keep wasting your money on food," Saffiyah whispered, straining for the red blob only inches from her fingertips, "or else some of the students will have no way of paying for the bus or medicine..."

"Left hand _blue_," Marian yelped, her limbs roaring in too much pain to hear soft footsteps enter the basement.

Robin casually hooked his left arm around Marian's shoulder, shifting his body around the tangle of stretching limbs like a small fish gliding around a mass of seaweed. He grinned triumphantly at the cursing brunette, her face dangling upside down to his, bright red from the surge of blood. He couldn't help admiring how, although her injury was obviously giving her greif, Marian wouldn't ever turn down a challenge. Unless it involved stealing from the canteen, of course.

"Whose idea was it to play 'Twister Extreme'?" Much tutted, taking note of mound of collapsed bodies panting on the floor of the dimly-lit room.

"Robin," the young women chorused.

With a helpless shrug, the guilty offender replied, "Well, I win. We're raiding the canteen."

Much laughed. Running over his best friend's words again, he squeaked in realisation, "We're _what?_"

- ---- ------------

_CORRIDORS TOWARDS MAIN DINING AREA_

"It's three-fifteen am," Robin whispered to the woman reluctantly hobbling behind him, "when Much gives the signal, it's your queue."

Marian frowned at the circles of garish torchlight gliding across the subdued darkness of the university's corridors. As much as she loved the gang member, he was just so odd. She rolled her eyes in anxiety. It would be so much easier to simply buy student meals using her savings instead of planning double agent stunts to break into the canteen's food storage.

After concluding to herself how ridiculous the plan was, she turned to argue, for the umpteenth time, when she suddenly thought that the daring young man had vanished.

"Robin?" she panicked, spinning around herself around blindly.

A low voice clucked from a dizzying height above her head, "You missed my move, again."

"Sorry," Marian spat into the shadows, "I was too busy fearing for my criminal record."

Following a series of distant whistles from Much and urges from Robin, the student limped along the corridor towards the night-duty officer with a forced smile. The neon-coated man looked young, unexperienced and easily distracted. He was trembling slightly, being perhaps his first day on the job. Thank the Lord; Marian wasn't in the mood for games.

- -- ---- -- ----

With a hand clasped over her mouth to stifle the sound of her heavy breathing, Saffiyah slid a metal pen from her tattered pocket and began slowly pressing the digits of the security code on the lock of the food safe, crouched low. "It's not working," she mouthed to an impatient looking Allan.

"I told you, Much got it wrong," he yawned, drawing a ray of torchlight over the metal buttons, "that's what you get for listenin' to conversations at midnight."

Saffiyah squinted from the glow of light, carefully prising open the metal flap to display a colourful mess of wires, "you got something narrow and metal to rig the fuse with?"

"Like what?"

"Belt hook, badge, something sharp-ish?" she suggested.

"Haven't you got some tweezers or eyelash curlers'?" Allan floundered hopefully, meeting a sharp glare which told him otherwise. He peered thoughtfully at the tangled wires in the petite girl's fingers. Think, think, think. Sharp and metal. "What about an earring?"

"Here," Saffiyah flung her ink black locks over one shoulder, exposing a simple pearl stud on her earlobe. She jerked her head, implying that her hands were too occupied with the arrangement of electrical spaghetti to undo the item herself.

Attempting to retrieve with earring through thoughtful tongue clicking, Allan gave her ear an accidental yank, "Ooops. Sorry, I can't find the back of it..."

"It's. Behind. My. Ear," Saffiyah cried irritatedly, "just pull it out already."

Hearing Saffiyah's muffled gasp, the quiet photographer – who had been occupied with keeping watch - scrambled to his feet and prized open the door to the kitchens. His pupils constricted as he skidded into the strobing light of his friend's torch.

Will looked from Allan, who was suspiciously hanging onto Saffiyah's neck, to the blinking buttons of the electronic food store. They obviously hadn't managed to prize the contraption open. "What's happening?" he whispered irritatedly, finding Allan's hands on Saffiyah's face slightly discomforting.

"'Ere, mate," Allan backed away from the predicament with a defeated shrug, "please tell me you're better at handling women's jewelery than myself."

His mechanical mind catching the drift of the scheme, Will easily slid the earring out of Saffiyah's flesh and cleverly jammed it into the brown wire curled around her finger. The circuit breaker zapped. At sense of danger, he grabbed hold of the inquisitive girl, dragging her body to a safer distance, just in case the system decided to throw sparks. Luckily, there was no electrical heat as the body of towering fridge paused it's humming. The final beep from the security code died away and the dense door twitched with a strange shudder.

Allan, who had been sleepily pressing back against the cold walls, breathed, "did it work?"

The vibration halted. The smooth movement of the door steadily swinging open answered his question, the lit contents meeting three grins. The sight was rich and heavenly. Hiding within the cold interior were plates of glistening strings of sausages, peppered salami slices, hunks of crumbling Leicester cheese, citrus tarts and piles of crusty pastry: sweet and savoury. Allan approached the fridge, wide-eyed. "Success," he whispered, lustfully stroking the patterned salami.

"We're done," Will removed his protective grasp on Saffiyah's waist and placed the pearl earring in her worn pocket. The metal was still hot from the surge of electric current and his heart swelled as Saffiyah smiled at the warmth pressing against her thigh. He couldn't succumb to actually believe that, earlier in that afternoon, the two of them had been dissolved in a passionate kiss.

Saffiyah turned away. She was clearly marvelling over similar thoughts. Fighting a blush, she whispered, "Let's go."

--- - ------

Okay, here it is guys. Thank you for reading! I believe this chapter was rapidly moving yet pretty short – compared to the others.

We've had thoughtful Much, the gang playing Twister and a choppy kitchen raid! Yeehaw!

I'm preparing some angsty pangsty and lust in the next chapter...or maybe we should have more sentimental Much?

Please tell me what you think,

Lots of Love x


	7. Warrior

**Hey, guys! Sorry for the hold up. Exams are a go-go and my brain consists of organic chemistry and nothing more. Thus, I have a serious case of writer's block.**

**Thank you for the lovely reviews. It's good to know what you think..**

**This chapter is more of a detailed, angst/romance thing. **

- -- - -- - -- -- --

_WOMEN'S SHOWER BLOCK, NOTTINGHAM UNIVERSITY CAMPUS_

"We'll be cooked alive," Marian remarked, primly wrapped in a snowy towel and searching through the thick steam for her friend. She found Djaq curled up happily in the corner of the sauna, dressed in a worn-out vest and knickers; looking rough yet content considering the extreme temperature. "How have you been coping all this time?"

"This is how warm it is in Jordan," Djaq sighed, her dark face beaded with moisture. The prospects of becoming thoroughly clean made her grin like a maniac, considering a steamy pampering was far from the icy showers she had to steal when under cover. "I think the boys could do with a sauna, too."

Marian rolled her eyes, "I insist in scrubbing behind Robin's ears myself," she fanned herself uncomfortably, her face already beetroot from the unbearable heat.

"You get in the shower with him?" Djaq swallowed at the prospect and shifted stickily in the fumes.

Marian laughed airily, "when he's lucky, I do."

Djaq chuckled uncertainly.

"I was wondering," Marian grew serious, leaning into the clouds of hot vapor, "how he is when he's doing the Dooh Nibor errands."

"What d'you mean?" Djaq wrinkled her nose, "He's fine. Rob knows what he's doing and all. He's stopped getting too over-excited over the plans, nowadays. Unless you count the time -"

"I mean," Marian interrupted quietly, making a vague gesture around the empty sauna, "with the girls."

"Girls?"

"You know how much of a tease he is," Marian surrendered, both students reclining into the steam with a knowing smirk, "I sometimes, well, worry that he's found some tart."

"I'd stop worrying," Saffiyah smiled as she reached forward and playfully flicked a bead of moisture from the end of Marian's nose, "he's only got eyes for you."

-- -- -- -- --

"I'm dying here," Allan moaned, pacing circles around the locker room. "Will they just hurry up?"

"You know how long women take," Much smiled, carefully cleaning his specs. He gave his lenses a neat wipe and settled them on the wooden bench, rubbing the bridge of his nose. It had been a tiring day, minus the fact that Allan had dragged him into the gym – in the middle of the night – to bruise his muscles. "We said we'd wait for them."

"It hardly takes long two hours on the treadmill," Allan groaned, slamming his locker closed, "How long do birds spend on gym equipment?"

"They're not exercising, Allan."

The student spun around in disbelief, "Then what the Hell are they doing? Trying on lipstick?"

- -- - -- -- --

After painting a smooth, waxy line of rose on her lips, Marian glanced at her watch. It was half nine and she imagined the boys stretching at the point of breakdown from their dillydallying. But, nothing could remedy Dooh Nibor related stress like a hearty pampering session.

"Will you pass me a towel, Marian?" A voice cried through the shower curtain.

After flinging a towel over the cubicle, she quipped, "I'd hurry up if I were you."

"Wait outside if you want, I'm just drying myself."

"I'll see you in a bit," Marian shrugged, tossing her lipstick into her bag and running a hand through her damp hair before jogging out of the changing rooms. Her cheeks were glowing with brilliance and her skin felt luxuriously soft from the effects of the sauna. She didn't need to, but she crept cautiously around the corner of the sports block and collided into an impatient Allan.

"You?" she cried, "this is the ladies' -"

"Not being funny, but how long d'you want to take?" He hissed, grabbing hold of Marian's duffle bag and swinging it over his shoulder, "have you got everything?"

Marian smoothened out the wrinkles on her T-shirt and snapped, "not quite."

"What?"

"Saffiyah," Marian warned, tugging her belongings off Allan's shoulder and placing it on the ground. She perched on top of her bag relaxedly and began to file her nails, legs crossed. "She won't be too long."

Allan glared at her serene face, "Oh, I'm sure she won't," he gritted his teeth, barging into the female changing rooms. He had quite enough of this wait. He had been pacing the locker room for an hour and Will and Robin would be eating some kind of supper by now. His stomach rumbled as he beat the doors open.

Marian sighed to herself, watching the hostile young man jog into the women's changing room.

-- -- -- -- --

After wringing the water out of her dark hair, Saffiyah stepped into the empty changing rooms in satisfaction. Her bare skin felt silky and she almost felt as attractive as she believed Marian to be. It was odd to long for beauty, as she'd ignored such matters years ago, but she envied her friend's chestnut curls and glacier eyes. Even Marian's ivory skin was flawless, whereas her own golden arms had been scarred from rough living in her previous apartment in London.

"Only Will could think is attractive," Saffiyah smiled unsurely to herself as she plucked a damp strand of black hair from her forehead, "strange boy," she whispered as she slowly turned her naked curves around in the mirror before reaching over to grab a dry towel.

Suddenly, a tall figure crashed into the deserted changing area. In shock, Saffiyah's hand fell limp and the towel dropped to the ground in a soft heap.

"What you playin' at?" Allan's attacked the changing room door, emerging into the white lights with narrowed eyes, "not being funny, but it's nearly ten o'clock -"

He skidded onto the wet tiles of the shower room, grabbing onto the locker doors to steady himself. It took him a second to absorb the portrait of naked skin before him as he rocked on the soles of his feet. It wasn't as if the female body was anything new to him, but he certainly wasn't expecting this. And he certainly wasn't expecting that face attached to that body...

"Get out!" The dark-haired woman before him quickly sheilded herself with a towel, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"Oh, holy shit," Allan laughed, not being able to resist a playful smirk as he jogged towards the changing room door. "Don't worry, I didn't see anything." He wracked the handle repeatedly, desperate to avoid a hostile Saffiyah, but the door didn't budge. "Oh. Holy _shit_."

A small janitor's assistant blew a ring of smoke into the department and tucked her cigarette into the corner of her mouth. She didn't exactly want this job in the first place, "so why not have a fag as you work?" she smiled crookedly to herself, her nose stud glinting as she scrambled for the changing room keys. The gym had been empty for some time now, so she assumed that would be no chance of any of the girls in the shower this late. "Tally ho," she saluted the locked the door, blowing rings of smoke into the ceiling as she dragged a hoover towards the next room.

"What is it?" Saffiyah squeaked, wrapping herself with the towel and returning to the shower to hide her dignity behind the PVC curtain.

"The door's locked," Allan rolled his eyes. Great. Some idiot had locked the door after his grand entrance and he was already late for supper. By now, Robin would have made a snide remark and inhaled his portion of chips.

"Check it again," Saffiyah's voice shook impatiently from behind the shower curtain. Oh God.

"Bloody hell," Allan ran a hand through his hair, "it's locked, it's locked."

-- -- --

A scamper of feet could be heard, leaking from the floor level. The echoes of hushes and hurried intructions brought Saffiyah out of her daze and she smiled expectantly at the creaking door handle of the women's changing rooms. She lifted her chin out of her hands as a clunk of keys rattled through the thick wood. "They're here."

With a last murmur, the door was flung open and crashed unceremoniously against the neighbouring wall. Much's delighted face flew into the room and Marian's waif-like form was hanging hungrily to the bunch of keys which were drilled into the door. "This -" Much whipped off his specs and waved them in the air in a flag-like manner, "is a rescue!"

"Great," Saffiyah sighed, ruffling Much's hair. Thankfully, she was fully clothed for_ this_ visit.

"Where's Allan?" Marian frowned, unhooking herself from the lock and searching the white tiles for any sign of muscles or golden hair.

"Guess," Saffiyah rolled her eyes.

"What?" Much panted, slipping his glasses on his nose and floundering about the changing rooms, "after all that complaining about time wasting, honestly."

"Not bein' funny," a familiar voice yelped from inside the sauna cubicle, "but it's boiling in 'ere."

-- -- -- -- --

DERELICT BASEMENT

The comforting, salty scent of chips lingered in the shadows of the dark shelter and the gentle breathing of sleeping students hummed through Will's blankets. It had been a quite unproductive Friday evening and Robin had insisted that the gang caught a good few hours of sleep before taking some seriously liberating actions in the morning. Most of the 'Dooh Nibor' members had nodded off into sleep; Much curled around Allan's ankle and Marian clinging to Robin's chest – as she had no energy to clamber all the way back to her own dorm. The bodies cast shadowy molehills against the stone ground and the small pinprick of fire inside the empty tin highlighted the sleepers' twitching limbs as they sprawled over their sleeping bags, leaving Will awake and curious. He bit his pen, clicking the lid repetitively as he stared at the body laid beside him. Whether it was truly curiosity or panic, Will couldn't understand, but he knew that he had lost any chance of sleeping tonight.

"You're still awake?" Saffiyah yawned, lifting an arm and wrapping it around his waist.

Will nodded. Click. Click. The movement of his biro grew faster as he grew more anxious, nearly splitting his lip.

"Is there something the matter?" she sat upright, blinking rapidly at his solemn face. His murky, green eyes were stern and showed no residue of sleep and his hair hung over his forehead in mussed strands as he rested his chin on his knees. He was biting on his pen in concentration, clicking the nib back and forth as his gaze steadied on Saffiyah's arms.

"I've seen them plenty of times before," Will swallowed, his eyes never leaving Saffiyah's body, "but I didn't ever think that – those," he gestured to the small dents in her skin, "were all over you."

"What?" Saffiyah shuddered in realization, curling into a protective ball. She hated feeling raw and vulnerable like this. "Allan and Marian told you."

Will nodded again, his eyes sweeping carefully over the scars lining her limbs with practised ease. He wasn't foreign to this, but he had some sort of desire to investigate the rest of this cruelty on her body. Deep down, Will felt like a visitor at a zoo and cursed himself for the need to explore everything named 'Saffiyah'. Yet, ever since the couple had shared a connection, his photographer skills had taken his mind to destinations he feared of ever reaching. But the fantasy was all too much, too soon – and too forbidden.

Most of all, those _scars_ were forbidden.

"How?" He whispered, removing the pen from his mouth and cautiously placing the tip of his finger on slight pink crescent on Saffiyah's shoulder. With a protective urge, he kissed the sensitive surface of her skin and felt her arm tense awkwardly at his actions. She shuffled her bum nervously to the opposite side of the sleeping bag.

"Oh, you know what some people are like -" she smirked, cut off by the sensation of insistent warm lips against her own. Will's body, which had scooted across to meet her, hovered mere centimetres from hers, but not daring to rest on hers just yet. "Where I used to live."

"These aren't meant to be here," Will's finger traced over her shoulder to her collarbone, touching the small scratches. He resisted the urge to pull away and blush at his dominance, his hands pinning down each of Saffiyah's arms. The passion was falling slowly like the first sweet snowflake, growing into a thick, overpowering blanket.

"These are memories," Saffiyah swallowed, "not nice ones, but they remind me to be strong."

"You're stronger than anyone I know," Will whispered into the pulsing flesh of her chest, his own heart thudding in anticipation as he pulled down her vest to expose the caramel skin above her heart. From the terrifying brush of his lips against her chest, Saffiyah's eyes darted around her.

"What are you doing?" she giggled uncertainly, squirming under his weight. Marian's stories about her intimacy with Robin had once sent jealous thrills down Saffiyah's body – but now, the anticipation and heat was too rushed to handle.

Will fingered the worn material of her vest, deciding not to rip it off like an uncaged animal but revel in the warmth that the fabric had absorbed from Saffiyah's body. How many more scars? Will wondered. But also, what else was there to see? What else could he kiss? How much more of Saffiyah was hiding under the defensive surface?

He stopped. "Who did it?"

"Did what?" Saffiyah frowned up into his tense stare.

"Hurt you?" Will's voice cracked, his gentle touches dissipating as he felt his fingers fumble desperately with the straps of her thin vest. The scars were becoming more startling, less like harmless pricks and more like deep grates on her flesh. These were merciless marks, striking across her body. "Why would you want to still – wear these memories?"

Instead of answering his question, Saffiyah tugged off her vest in one movement and threw it carelessly over the blazing tin in the middle of the basement floor. The material hung over the sides of the small can and smothered the flame, dulling the amber light and allowing only moonlight and Will's lips to kiss her skin.

"Here," she retreived Will's fallen biro from her side, feeling her mind race ahead of reason and sense. She clicked the lid, exposing the metal nib and pressed it into Will's hand.

He stared at down her questioningly, his mind scanning her dark eyes. "What?"

"Mark me," Saffiyah, gestured to the dents around her ribcage and collar bones, "get rid of all these memories, write over them."

"Me?"

"I want to remember you," she clarified, feeling slightly foolish as the words stumbled out of her mouth in a dizzy rush of love. She nodded at the pen in Will's clutches, "I don't need these scratches to remind me to be strong. I – I only need you."

With a determined breath, Will focused the glinting metal of the pen on Saffiyah's chest, just above the line of her bra. He pressed the nib into her skin and heard her gasp at the cold ink penetrating her flesh, the movement of the lines steady and smooth as he rested on his elbow. The moonlight caught the dark ink, a piercing contrast against the soft honey of her skin. "There," he smiled at his name, "now you're mine. You're mine."

"Will Scarlett," Saffiyah whispered, reading the upside down lettering on her chest. Will felt himself shiver at his ministrations. Those were last words spoken as the rest of her body became slowly exposed for the second time that day...

**I know, I know. It's Will who's (in the forest) the first one to catch a glimpse of Saff's body, but I thought it'd be a funny change if (for the contemporary times) it was Allan. Sweetly enough, he doesn't seem to make a hoo-haa out of it but informs Will that the girl has been physically hurt...**

**We'll maybe find out who gives Saff those scars.**

**Next up – the Sheriff and Gizzy! And Allan-love giggles.**

**Please review,**

**K.A x**


	8. Stands

DERELICT BASEMENT

"Morning, sunshine!"

The basement door slammed with a heavy bang against the cold wall, rupturing the tender hours of the morning. Faces screwed up in anxiety and pillows were thrust over ears as Much waded through the sleeping bags, rustling the polythene bag in his hand to intentionally create a racket. It was joyous occasion. "We have snacks, mates," he poured the contents of the bag onto his blankets and dived into the pile of treats. The ravenous young man hadn't eaten for two days, therefore Marian's small donations were like rain in Sahara desert.

Allan, with his athlete's metabolism, immediately perked up with the mention of food. "What 'ave we got?" he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and sat up eagerly.

Much peered over his specs, "Oh, excellent...we have sultanas, banana chips, muesli bars..."

Robin's voice groaned from inside his sleeping bag, complaining about Marian's obsession with re-shaping the gang's diets.

"What's wrong with what we eat?" Allan frowned, swigging the last drop of beer from the trampled can beside him.

"Everything," Much sighed in an authoritative tone, "she's right. Here, have some sultanas."

Allan allowed the dried fruit to sail above and his head and land in his mouth and snorted through a mouthful, "They're raisins."

"_Sultanas_," came the correction.

From the squabbling voices interrupting her sleep, Saffiyah peered blearily out of her comfortable den and resisted the urge snap at the young men to be quiet. The classification of food wasn't something she wanted to discuss in the early hours. She took a glance at Will, who was still asleep at her side, and subtly covered the lower half of his body with a spare blanket, "Morning, guys," she yawned at the rest of the gang.

Allan grinned sleepily at her, carefully observing her crumpled vest and ruffled hair, "'Ello sweetheart," he teased, "had a good night?"

Saffiyah blushed furiously at his implication. "Yes, thanks."

"Did you practise safe -" he began, but was quickly elbowed him in the ribs.

"Breakfast, Saff?" offered Much with a kind smile. Saffiyah politely took a cereal and nibbled it quietly, desperate for the conversation to take a different turn or for even the sultana-raisin debate to be resurrected.

"Today," Robin cleared his throat loudly, clearing the blankets and pillows out of the way and making his way towards the lightswitch, "we are going to run our Psychology Department errands, gave a breif meeting with Mr Little -"

"And then you'll have a night in with your bird," Allan rolled his eyes. Marian and Robin were practically joined at the hip, nowadays.

"Not until eleven," Robin objected as he flicked on the basement's neon glow, almost reluctantly, "tonight – we're having a real man's night. No canteen raids, for a change. Just us lads..."

Allan raised his eyebrows in surprise. This _was_ a change.

" - Until Marian comes at eleven, of course."

Fair enough. A Much needs his food and a Robin needs his Marian...

-- -- --

_PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE_

"Come in, birthday boy" the principal sang, greeting his son with a rather startling toothy grin. He casually twiddled the white curl on his bald forehead as the young man stalked into his office and nodded at the tower of paper on the desk.

"Are these the forms?" Guy asked, a crooked smile forming in the corner of his mouth. He had been waiting for this day for many years – twenty, to be exact. This was the moment where his father's property would be officially put into his hands, where he had full responsibility over their London apartments. The rents, the taxes...the power. The ultimate gift.

But, a small part of Guy wanted nothing more than a birthday cake – or some kind of measly card. It was one of those things that seemed to have disappeared along with his mother. Mrs Vasey. Guy remembered her clearly; her warm lap and tender smile – her lipstick was identical the pink smarties he would hunt for in the tubes – and the bitter tears running down her cheeks when she fled their home. Since that day, the Vasey family had been dry of anything so sweet.

"You know what these are, don't you?" Guy's father tapped at the stack of papers coyly.

"Position, wealth," Guy described with anticipation, although his heart was only reciting the words. No, this is what he needed. "Power," he whispered, accepting the the property in an instance and almost leaping onto the forms. "Are they...mine?"

"NO."

Vasey's words shot through the air like a rifle and Guy stiffened at the blow. But, after a stealthy few minutes, the grin reappeared on the Principal's face. "Of course they are, you idiot!"

"Oh," Guy shifted in his seat.

"Listen, just relax," Vasey hopped off his revolving chair and skipped around his desk, towards his son, "the money business has been taken care of, my boy. The apartments are all yours..."

Guy smiled pleasantly, a small gleam in his eye.

"Tonight, just have a blast, ye-ees? You kids have fun. The reception is all yours!"

"Thank you, Dad."

Vasey walked slowly around his son, his eyelids descending a little as he peered up into his son's icy features. "Just remember, Guy, that opportunities should never be wasted. Money is everywhere – it just needs to be sniffed out and _owned_."

"Yes, Dad."

"Parties," the declaration continued, "parties mean networking...mingle with the right kind of people...And, by that, I mean the people with heavy pockets, yes? And – what's her name...That girl with the shapely bust..._Martina?_ Marilyn?"

Guy swallowed. "Her name's Marian," he corrected.

"Ah, yes, _Marigold_," the principal babbled, "I suggest you teach her a thing or two _after_ the party. Network first. Snog later. Got it?"

"Yes, Dad."

- -- -- --

_NOTTINGHAM UNIVERSITY MAIN RECEPTION_

It wasn't that she didn't enjoy a good party, especially one set in a beautifully decorated University reception, but Marian couldn't wait to get out of this Hellhole. It already made her stomach clench uncomfortably the minute she spotted the familiar faces already strutting into the room; most of them were the Nottingham upper-class society who had often visited her father while she was in College.

As the music throbbed softly through the twinkling candlelight, Marian reminded herself that she was here for one thing – and one thing only – to wish Guy a happy birthday and then crawl out of the party and dive directly into Robin's arms with a mug of Horlicks. That was the plan.

"Oh my _God_," a platinum blonde student squinted across the room, spotting a particularly uncomfortable guest. "Is that Marian?" she squealed.

"Holy shit," Marian whispered to herself then flinched at her use of Allan's words.

Penelope trotted as quickly as she could, in her six-inch silver stilettos, across the reception towards her long-lost friend with a giddy pantomime of shrieks. Grabbing hold of Marian's shoulders and blowing extravagant air kisses to both of her cheeks, she gushed, "I can't believe you couldn't make the Paris trip, Marie! We _so _missed you."

"Oh, right, I'm sorry I couldn't make it," the student forced her eyebrows upwards and smiled, "how was France, anyway?"

Penelope rested on hand on her slim hip and tossed her hair over one shoulder, "it was absolutely exquisite, darling. _Truly_. Look at this purse," she higgled a silver clutch bag in her friend's face, "it was three hundred euros. _Only_ three hundred!"

The purse seemed to attract a lot of attention as a herd of balistic young women began to crowd around the two students, cooing and giggling about how long it had been since they'd seen Marian and how lovely her dress looked. The whole ordeal was beginning to irritate her to the core and it was in that moment that she realised how much she appreciated Saffiyah's friendship.

"Well," a tall girl in a slinky ballgown glided in between a very bored Marian and giddy Penelope, "other than commenting on how extra cute Guy Vasey looks in his tux, I have to say – on with the dizzies!"

Marian snapped out of her Robin-centred daydream and wrinkled her nose, "dizzies?"

"_Dizzy fleurs_," came the frustrated reply with a great deal of eye-rolling, "they're all the rage in Paris, Marie."

Penelope slipped her delicate fingers into her priceless purse and retrieved an embroidered tin. The sides were embellished with orchid patterns and the lid flashed with a heavy designer logo which Marian forgot to gush about. In a second, the contents met a group of delighted faces – the inside of the tin crammed with suspicious white tablets.

Penelope cleared her throat and retrieved a tablet, placing it on her tongue with a smug smile. In a minute, the reception became musky and her world swayed with a hypnotic hue of turquoise, emerald and the colours melted together in a beautiful blend. The music strengthened in her ears and her arms moved of their own accord...as if she was floating. "I feel like I'm being, like, _whisked_," she burbled, much to Marian's confusion. "Try one, Marie."

Watching the procession of inebriated students, Marian frowned. "What is it, ecstasy?"

"Ew, drugs," another student hissed, "no, no, _no_. That's so cheap and...common. Dizzy fleurs are more – tasteful."

"Tasteful?" Marian spat, and with that, she shrugged her way past the guests and angrily made her way towards the reception exit. There was only so much 'upper class' she could put up with, and the fact that the wealthier students of Nottingham University were splurging their money on drugs whilst the others were too poor to attend lectures made her blood boil.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

She froze.

-- -- --

_DERELICT BASEMENT_

"Where the Hell is she?" Robin groaned, eyeing his watch for the hundredth time, "she was meant to be here an hour ago."

"Well, mate," Allan shrugged, playing with the basement's broken lightswitch, "you know how long birds take to do anything."

Much paused in thought for a second, then scratched his neck. "But parties go on forever, Robin," he reasoned, "she could be caught up with the other girls or something."

"Yeah," Allan grinned, "Guy Vasey might be having some entertainment planned for his fancy shindig."

"Probably," Much sighed. He had no idea what the 'rich kids' could be up to on a special occasion. His last party consisted of half a cupcake and a drunken juggler. This was on his nineteenth – and Allan happened to be the juggler. And the cupcake was stale.

"Hang on," Robin raised a hand, silencing the conversation. His eyes widened incredulously. "Guy Vasey? Did you say _Guy?_"

"Yeah, it's Guy's birthday..."

Much swallowed. He knew his best friend very well and he definitely knew that look. That look meant trouble.

- - --

_MAIN RECEPTION_

"Are you not having a good time?" Guy asked, eyeing his escape routes and stiffly placing an arm around Marian's shoulder. Soften up, he yelled at himself. Soften up, you idiot! Be amiable...Be a gentleman...No matter what your father says.

"Oh," Marian smiled sweetly, "the party's great. I – I just needed a breath of fresh air."

"Oh?"

"I drank the champagne on an empty stomach -"

She was in the middle of quite a reasonable explanation for her early departure from the party, when an odd-looking guest strolled into the reception and connected her gaze across the dance floor. The way he walked seemed strangely familiar, yet she was certain that she had never met anybody in Nottingham with a spiked goatee and curled moustache.

Guy followed her gaze, slightly disheartened that he hadn't really hooked Marian's attention for more than five minutes until his mouth flew open at the wierdo staggering towards him.

Marian slapped her forehead at the sight of a timid student following the stranger. Much. He hadn't bothered with a ridiculous disguise and she had recognised him instantly. Now, what in the world was Robin doing here? And looking like _that_...?

- -- --

The music had calmed into a series of ballads and the guests had retired to velvet seats and were drunkedly gazing through the windows at the constellations dotting Nottingham's sky. Guy, on the other hand, was perfectly sober. But there were other reasons for his head ache...

"So," he cleared his throat, "what did you say your name is?"

"Alex," Robin grinned, twiddling his plastic beard, "Alex Croquet."

"_Croquet?_" Marian hissed at him out of the corner of her mouth, "what kind of name is that?"

"You're from -"

"Scotland," Robin interjected with such confidence that he naturally crossed his legs and leaned back into his seat to admire the vision of loveliness before him – who simply rolled her eyes and turned away. "I went to a private school in Scotland."

"I see," Guy adjusted his bow tie, finding this stranger quite bold and well, irritating. However, he sounded pretty wealthy for a nineteen-year-old. Time to network, he reminded himself.

"Nice tux," the Scottish student coughed, now twiddling his moustache.

Guy gritted his teeth and smiled, "Thank you."

- --

Much, on the other side of the party, was parceled by various limbs and heavily drugged young women. One of them being Penelope. He hadn't quite planned being the girl's supervisor for the evening, seeing as he hadn't had time to disguise himself, but she had immediately hugged onto his arm and hadn't let go for the past twenty minutes.

Penelope nuzzled her cheek against the awkward student's arm, gazing dopily up at him, "Wow, I like _love _your glasses..." she cooed, aiming a finger at Much's spectacles but missing completely and prodding his nose, instead. "They're very _Prada_, you know?" She quite liked him, funnily enough. He reminded her of warmth and security; quite similar to a stuffed toy, in a way.

"Thank you," he shifted stickily. He wasn't quite at ease with women touching his face, especially not rich students with a lack of hand-eye co-ordination. Yet, somehow, she seemed quite mild-natured – although, he decided, that was probably to do with those 'dizzies'. "Are you feeling alright?"

Penelope swayed slightly on her stilettos, "I'm feeling...I'm feeling..._Wow_."

"Right," Much swallowed. He glanced over his shoulder at his very cocky-looking best friend and the brooding Guy who had wedged himself into a corner whilst his disguised enemy flirted with Marian. At least all was normal with the world.

"Hey," the blonde girl gently fluttered her eyelashes, bringing back her companion's attention, "you're _so_ quiet."

"I'm not, usually," Much laughed uncomfortably.

"But," Penelope blinked at the unusual boy, "You..._Listened_ to me, like, _now_."

"We always need someone to talk to," Much smiled at the bewildered expression on the girl's face. She seemed calmer now, less eccentric at least. Perhaps the drugs were wearing off after she'd vomited over his jeans.

"May I?" She suddenly stumbled forward and closed her eyes, pushing Much forward in the process.

"What are you doing?" Much grabbed hold of her shoulders and stepped away carefully, as if was expecting her to spontaneously combust. He didn't handle exploding girls very well.

"I'm _kissing_ you," Penelope gasped whilst tripped backwards, feeling slightly abashed at his reaction. Nobody turned her down, no male species she'd ever known. Never in world... "Not in Paris, Italy or anywhere!" she suddenly broke out.

"What?" Much asked, baffled.

"You're turning me down..." she gabbled to herself, the room suddenly turning a faded hue of grey. A sort of silver-grey, like a unicorn horn or an expensive purse, she suddenly decided. Much's face began to blur and her body shuddered softly, leaving her skin prickling from the raw nerves. She bit the inside of her mouth and she felt her stilettos surrender to her weight as her legs gave in under her.

"Are you alright?" Much whispered, anxiously checking Penelope's closing eyes. He pressed his fingers into her shoulder, shaking her slightly in attempt to wake her up. "Oh, no."

"Sometimes...I think I was born _backwards_..." she sighed dreamily, gently collapsing into his hands.

"Robin!"

- -- --

**Haha. Okiedokie. I was going to add the Allanlovegiggles...but I'll save that for later. **

**I hope you like my OC – Penelope. She was great fun to write. I kind of took some inspiration from the shallow 'yah yah' girls you'd find in society...But, she's not so superificial deep down...**

**Summary time! :**

**Saffiyah wakes up next to a nekkid Will. Hehe.**

**HAPPY BIRTHDAY GUY**

**Robin realises that Marian's off to Guy's party and decides to gatecrash the bash – in disguise as a goatee + curly moustache dude.**

**Much meets drug-crazy Penelope – who has now passed out from the effects. Will she be alright?**

**NEXT UP: We discover more about Saffiyah's scars. **


	9. A

**A great big hug to all of my wonderful reviewers! It's great to have feedback. **

**Sorry about the mahoosive delay. Exams are chewing on my fingers and I haven't had much time to type or think...**

**-- -- -- --**

_NOTTINGHAM CAMPUS, STUDENT CAR PARK_

"Guys?"

"Yeah," the passengers answered simultaneously.

Robin gritted his teeth. "Are you ready for this?" he warned, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel – which was presently being clutched between his both hands.

Saffiyah rolled her eyes and adjusted the rear-view mirror for the excited driver with a quiet string of mumbles under her breath. Will had scrambled into the back seat of Robin's 80's mini and he, and an exhausted Al A'Dale, had clunked their belts and were waiting patiently for Robin to turn on the ignition.

"I think you forgot somethin'," Allan yawned. He scratched at red stain on Led Zepplin's forehead where he had accidently sprayed ketchup on his shirt, the moment Robin had entered the basement in the middle of the 'emergency'.

Robin's eyes flickered from side to side wildly, hands still poised on the wheel, "What, what did I forget?"

"The key," Saffiyah suggested, dangling the keyring before his face.

After ten minutes of groaning and fussing, the car slowly backed out of the student car park with a steady rattle from the engine. "The ambulance left two hours ago," the female passenger sighed, "And I have no idea what's happened. Much's phone is switched off, probably because of the hospital rules -"

"Penelope's fine," Will's voice floated from behind her seat. "The parademics gave her an oxygen mask, didn't they?"

"Yes," Robin snapped, still continuing to reverse at snail pace, "Now, are you all strapped in?"

"For the love of all things prompt and un-delayed," Allan groaned, rubbing his eyes ferociously, "I didn't get dragged out of basement to 'ave a mother's meeting with you lot in the back of a faulty car from the retro times."

Robin blinked at his friend's reflection the rear-view mirror.

"So put your foot on it, will you?"

-- -- --

"Blood 'Ell!"

The deafening horn of a passing truck shot past the window like bullet and the streetlights seemed to pass so quickly that the glow had smeared into a blur of garish milk along the car window. Saffiyah held her breath as the car roared and swerved around the roundabout towards the motorway.

"You told me to hurry up," Robin grinned, his eyes manic and staring quite frighteningly into the windscreen.

"D-Did you have coffee?" Saffiyah gasped, peering incredulously into her friend's eyes.

"A cup or two."

"How many people have you put on life support, Robin?" Will laughed shakily, exchanging a worried glance with Allan, who had presently been shocked awake.

"Honestly, you're a bunch of girls," Robin smirked as he swung into the next lane, almost colliding with a very hostile-looking driver. "I have at least _one_ airbag."

- -- --

_NOTTINGHAM HOSPITAL, NEURO DEPARTMENT_

It mildly irritated him that the walls of hospitals were white, instead of any other kind of uplifting tone of yellow or even pink. There was something so cliché and clinical about the surroundings that Much couldn't help feeling restless, blinded by the snowy scenery.

Her face glowed with serenity when she asleep, sans the bruise across her left-cheek and the purple stained circle around her eyes. The make up had been removed from her cheeks, exposing a very vulnerable skin and delicate freckles which danced along her nose as if she were still a playful schoolgirl...She looked less flawless and royal but touchable and _real_.

The beep from the monitor brought the student around from his daze.

It was real. The whole situation was real and the possible outcomes – were_ all real_.

The red marks from the oxygen mask had returned to Penelope's face, circling her lips and barricading her inebriated mumbles. The plastic tubing had been rewound around her arm with tape plastered unceremoniously to her skin. "It's all going to be alright," he swallowed, not sure whether he was reassuring himself or the young woman lying solemnly beneath the white sheets before him.

As if a butterfly fluttering from it's perch on the surface of a flower, Penelope's eyes opened. Her lips crinkled slightly into a weak smile as her words scraped the tip of her tongue, "you stayed with me," she croaked.

"Yeah," Much managed an anxious smile, "And you're alright."

"I am -" she started, then paused as her hand searched under the starched hospital sheets. "These aren't_ my_ knickers," she gasped, shocked.

Much laughed. Apart from the fact he had made this girl's acquaintance only but three hours ago, she managed to wash his whole system with relief within seconds. It seemed surreal, almost, as if he had met her somewhere in a dream – but she hadn't been some sort of goddess or majestic infiltrator of his fantasies but a kind of bully, in truth. She was one of those girls, he reminded himself. There was a painful gap of social class between himself and Penelope, even if he had just about saved her life. "I think the nurse gave you them," he offered shyly, rubbing his slightly steamed lenses with his thumbs.

"Oh," Penelope chuckled weakly, "I suppose when your brain is dehydrated, the first thing you have to do is strip somebody of their underwear."

Much's smile faded slightly. "You weren't well."

"Yes, Michael, I _know _I nearly died," Penelope sang softly towards the blinding white of ceiling, "but I – I still can't stop them, you know?"

He flinched from the use of his false name. She didn't even know him – and he knew nothing about her. And to add to that blunt truth, he had no idea what she was babbling about. "You're still..."

"High?" Penelope suggested, her grin small but nonetheless cunning. "I am being inspired, _silly_. This is the way I want to be, this is all the rage amongst the models in _Paris_."

"That's not why you take the drugs, though, is it?" Much found his voice rushing at full tidal force as he shuffled forward on his chair. "Not because of fashion."

Penelope quietened for a minute, as if she was considering his words. She was slightly taken back by his forward tone, as this quiet Michael guy was _practically_ screaming at him while she was lying partly naked under chlorine-scented hospital sheets...Her head was still spinning, although only mildly, and her breathing felt strained and painful. "No, I don't really care what people think."

"Here's your purse," Much replied dryly, placing the silver item beside her arm on the hospital bed. The glittering royalty of the possession appeared plastic and worthless under the scrutinizing glow of white light. It was just meaningless, and Penelope dismissed it with the wave of her hand.

"I do love that purse," she cooed under breath, "but it's like my hair and dress, isn't it? It just looks amazing and so _fantastique_...But that's because people don't want to know me."

"I want to know you," Much whispered, ignoring how dramatic the situation had become, "who are you?"

"They just won't change," the patient laughed airily, "I don't _want_ to change, I want _them_ to change, you know?"

"Who are they?" Much asked, baffled.

"The _world_, everybody! You all want to dress me in vogue and then unzip me...Like, I'm some kind of _slut _from the upper class..."

Much felt himself nod defeatedly. An 'upper class slut'. That's the name most of Nottingham University knew her by. Then, realising that she had directly but indirectly labelled the culprit 'you', he shook his head vigorously before a blush assaulted his cheeks.

"So I take some dizzies and they – they, like, _change_ everything outside. I can be whoever, you know?"

"What do you want?" Much breathed, still partly clueless. "What do you want to change?"

"I want to throw out the sun and, like, keep the moon out all the day," Penelope giggled, leaning back into the white pillows, "I want to sing opera in the middle of Sherwood Forest and paint the world _pink_. I want to ask my parents why they aren't here, in hospital, with me..." she stopped in the middle of her sentence, feeling too exhausted to elaborate.

"You're crazy," Much sighed.

Penelope turned her head and smiled tiredly at the uncomfortable young man, "Michael, you're always listening to _me_ talk. Don't you want to change anything?"

What would he change? Where could he start? He'd take life by the hand and spin it in the wrong direction, just to unravel the fabric of time and piece everything back together – in the _right _way. He'd scramble through the Millers' graves and put the soul into his parent's bodies, maybe even tweak the corners of his mother's smile; he missed her smile. He'd make sure the rainbows were permanently printed in the sky and that suffering never existed. He'd make sure that all of Nottingham could gain an education – for free - And he'd find the man behind Saffiyah's scars and kick him out of the solar system – he'd change everything for his friends, for the people he loved. He'd make sure his sister, Elaine, never had a miscarriage and wipe the tears out of Robin's eyes when...

But he couldn't undo anything. That was crazy.

"Michael?"

Much shifted uncomfortably, knowing that the subject was becoming close to home and being addressed by a stranger's name felt...wrong. He didn't want to catch her deepest feelings and cheat her with a false identity – he would always uphold his respect for a lady. "That's not my name," he smiled awkwardly, "It's Much," he felt his tongue grow heavy. Much. He suddenly decided that his name even sounded lower-class. There was no chance he would he reveal himself as 'Dooh Nibor' member, at this rate.

"Smile, Much," Penelope slurred lightly, her eyelids falling with every word. "Smile, Much." In a second, her breathing became steady and level as her body became consumed by forgiving sleep.

_Was it a command?_ Much wondered, still wary of her inebriated brain. Did she say it in a beckoning way? - Like 'go on, gizza smile, Much,' the way Allan would chirp. Or did she not take in his name? Perhaps it was a question – 'do you smile much?' or 'do you smile often?'

Either way, it was adequate. Much smiled, slowly but surely, and tucked the white hospital sheets up to Penelope's chin. He planned on waiting there until she awoke, even if he had to wait for a fortnight.

-- --

_CASUALTY RECEPTION_

Marian felt tears of relief prickle in her eyes from the doctor's words. Her friend was fine, her body still recovering, but she had survived the fatal effects of dehydration – and that was all the reassurance Marian needed. Also, Robin's secure arms certainly helped.

"You didn't take any ecstasy, too, did you? -" he mumbled quietly into her hair.

"No!"

"Just asking," Robin grinned, tightening his arms around her waist as a small boy seated in a wheelchair rolled into the children's ward. He was merely a toddler, with most of his head bald from the chemotherapy treatment, and he was staring blankly at Marian.

"Hi," Marian brushed off Robin's embrace embarrassedly and wiggled her fingers at the child. Robin watched the boy's face break into an amused grin and, in turn, Marian chuckled happily at the young patient.

Once the child was wheeled away by his nurse towards the reception, Marian's face still sympathetically watching her new friend, Robin planted a small kiss on her cheek.

"What happened to your car, by the way?" She broke the satisfied silence, curious about the battered carnage in the hospital car park.

"Long story."

- -- --

_NOTTINGHAM HOSPITAL CAR PARK_

The night was certainly freezing, as Allan could have predicted any day. It was Autumn, after all. And, to add to the seasonal technicalities, he was stood shivering in the car park without a jacket at three o'clock in the morning. Saffiyah had kindly offered him her cardigan, which he tried pulling on but decided not to rip the whole garment in half, refusing it to avoid a very hostile young woman. Will, on the other hand, was discussing matters with a very irritated police so had probably ignored the below zero temperature.

"Mr A'Dale?" a female voice wafted from behind him. "I haven't seen you in my lectures for quite some time."

"A girl's just been rushed into hospital and -" Allan blurted, spinning around. "Oh, you know how it is."

The redheaded woman, who had strutted out of the hospital in a grey pencil skirt and jacket, stopped smiling at the student and quickly scanned the group of shivering students with a critical glance, "Is there something the matter, officer?"

The policeman grumbled, tapping meaningfully at his notebook and muttering something about 'careless youth'. Will shrugged apologetically at the man, earning him a frustrated groan from Saffiyah.

Allan waved a hand dismissively at the conflict at his side and politely greeted his Philosophy lecturer. "Mrs Evans," he sighed, "'Ere, I'm sorry, it's just all that funds business at uni got in the way."

"It's just _Miss_ Evans, and I understand," the older woman smiled, "But I just started some classes _in cognito, _under Mr Little's guidance. Would you still be interested?"

"Yeah," Allan dug his hands into his pockets with a nod.

"Excellent. And, remember," she continued, turning towards her car with a cocked eyebrow, "It's just Wendy."

"Okay, Wendy," Allan smirked, "I'll be there."

- -- --

_DERELICT BASEMENT_

Hugh Grant danced across the screen of the broken, portable DVD player, both students staring at the film. Why they were watching a chick flick was beyond Will, but he was sharp enough to understand that Much was truly enjoying it. After all, he welcomed a lighter change from visiting a frail Penelope on a daily basis.

"This bit's great," the young man shifted his specs eagerly, but then, catching Will's blank expression, turned down the volume of the film. "Are you alright?"

Will made a face, rolling off his front and running a hand through his hair. "Yeah," he responded.

"What's bothering you?" Much asked knowingly, snapping the DVD player shut. He poised himself for the heart-to-heart that he knew Will would be reluctant to give. "Is it Saffiyah?"

"Nah," Will shook his head, "She's great."

The emotions were all too blatant in Will's creased forehead. He was worried and had obviously been losing sleep over the subject of the mysterious scars patterning Saffiyah's arms – well, that's as far as Much had seen. The student had also noticed that his friend had been spending a lot of time releasing his steam through his beloved camera – taking snapshots of the basement and staring emptily at each meaningless photograph. "She's...alright."

"D'you reckon it was just an accident," Much caught the train of the photographer's thought, leaning back into his sleeping bag.

"An accident?" Will's voice broke, "No, you haven't seen them, those cuts are all over her. That's no accident, Much, and she won't talk to me about it -" he paused. There were too many new thoughts occurring for him to process his words.

"No," Much shook his head confidently, "she wouldn't do that to herself."

"Do what to herself?" Will laughed nervously, "Self-harm or somethin'? Or d'you reckon she was -"

The silence was no longer silent but pulsing with painful possibilities. None of them clear or understandable, but mixed with confusion that ached Will more and more by the second. The rage was building, masking all of the torturous mystery and filling the void with uncontrollable heat. Who gave her those damn scars? "I'll kill who it was," Will's low voice mumbled into his hands.

Much nodded, gazing at his own fingers. "We'd help, if we could."

"No, mate," Will shook his head feverishly, unable to express his anger, "I'd – I dunno what I'd do."

- --

**Rightio. Here it is: in all it's angst-filled glory. PHEW.**

**We discover that quirky Penelope has survived – and that Robin isn't the safest driver. Hah. **

**Next up: We may find out exactly what Saffiyah went through in her past (sorry, guys, it's taking a while!) and who this Miss Evans is to our Allan A'Dale...**

**Review, please? x**


	10. Woman

The after-effects of Guy's party came with varying results; some of the girls were too ashamed of their hangover demeanor to even face lectures, whisking themselves away to the spa for a hasty recovery. The young men, however, winced through their headaches with roguish grins on their faces – remembering what they could of the night's events. Over the typical exhaustion came a suspicion – _where is Penelope?_ The piercing siren of an ambulance was a blur to the young adult's inebriated minds, but their panic and her pale body could be remembered by most of them – even Guy, who was busy deciphering Robin's disguise.

Nobody had heard from her for days since her recovery.

"Oh, gosh," a young woman gasped, her platinum hair tucked under Will's old beanie, struggling with the weight of the kettle in her arms. "How _retro_ is this," she grinned in her characteristically dazed way – her voice eerie and acidic. "Why don't you, like, use the expresso machine?"

"Daddy's little princess," Saffiyah smirked, rolling up her sleeves and carrying a sack of supplies over one shoulder and easing the kettle off Penelope with one hand, "we're not all Paris Hilton," she added. Taking care to watch out for her new friend as well as herself, she unlocked the padlock with her nimble fingers and ushered Penelope into the derelict basement.

They sat cross-legged, with the lightbulb flickering above their heads, in a thoughtful silence. The more experienced gang member eyed the other girl carefully, painfully aware of her still frail body. It was amusing how Penelope was quite oblivious to everybody's attention since abandoning her previous life and migrating to the basement. Allan had attempted to sweeten her up a number of times, before realizing just how bizarre she was, and Saffiyah was constantly pressing the back of her hand against the girl's forehead to check for any symptoms of fever. But Penelope wasn't phased, she simply babbled bluntly about everything and nothing and would walk headfirst into danger – with a panicked Much dragging her back to safety.

"Pour me some," the eccentric of two sighed, watching Saffiyah tip steaming liquid into a broken china cup. Taking a sip, she tilted her head to a side and followed the trail of lightning-fork branches denting Saffiyah's nearest forearm... "Interesting," she nodded at the deepest scar.

Hastily rolling down her sleeves, Saffiyah diverted her eyes.

"...Could be some sort of, like, symbol," Penelope whispered, blinking rapidly, "like a tribal tattoo, yeah?"

Slightly in awe of the way the other student managed to almost admire her scars in a deluded sense of optimism, the way only Penelope could, Saffiyah chuckled to herself and crossed the room to open the basement door.

Will was stood in the doorway, expressionless and panting until his eyes shifted and linked with Saffiyah's caramel gaze. He smiled and she shifting onto her tiptoes to meld her mouth into his.

They stood in the same position, eyes closed, for almost eternity.

Nothing.

Saffiyah pulled away. The usual wave of joy that washed over their bodies when they kissed was being...strained. There was a forlorn tension in both their minds and Saffiyah convinced herself that the awkwardness of the kiss was more to do with the fact that Penelope was mouth-open and watching them intently from the other side of the basement.

Will, on the other hand, felt less of her solid logic. His eyes saddened at the taste of discomfort on Saffiyah's lips, having the knowledge that this wasn't the first time he felt her build a barricade between them.

Swallowing thickly, he ran his hands over Saffiyah's arms until he reached the cuffs of her sweater and pulled up the sleeves, touching the raw skin underneath with his fingertips. Saffiyah's body stiffened.

"Can we talk, somewhere?" He whispered.

-- --

_PHILOSOPHY DEPARTMENT_

"So, nobody else arrived?" Wendy searched the lecture hall with her eyes, hoping that the students would reappear from under the desks, "Where is everyone?"

Allan tugged the heavy satchel off his shoulder and ceremoniously flopped onto one of the seats, taking advantage of the extra space by propping his feet up on the back of a an empty chair. He turned to either side of him and saluted to the two other young people who had the courage to attend the lecture.

"'Ows about we start some life talk, hey – Miss Evans?"

Wendy rolled her eyes at, ironically, one of her best students. Whilst the other students determinedly scribbled down notes and chanted under their breath, Allan never bothered with the memorizing and simply rolled with the punches...He had perspective, he had spirit and – he was undeniably cute.

"We were discussing_ risks_, in our last lecure," Wendy began, sliding her weight onto her desk. "The choices we make in a difficult situation."

"I think a person who takes risks is a wise chap," Allan commented, grinning widely at his teacher.

"Why is that?"

"Because you've never really lived life if you 'aven't challenged yourself."

The end of the lecture brought Allan swinging out of his seat and perching himself on the lecturer's desk. He retrieved an apple from his bag and crunched on it patiently, waiting for Wendy to finish assembling the lecture hall. She cleared the board, straining in her grey suit, then turned back to her desk to greet the student waiting eagerly on her desk. "Allan?" she asked, wondering what it was about the assignment he didn't understand.

"Were you spying on me, Miss Evans?" Allan smiled, chewing thoughtfully, "At the hospital?"

Wendy raised an eyebrow. "No," she prompted, "I just happened to bump into you."

"At three in the mornin'?" Allan frowned, then corrected himself, "I mean, it's none of my business and everythin'."

The lecturer sighed, "I just checked up on my son," she explained, shuffling a handful of papers on the desk, "He's not very well at the moment."

Simply out of boredom, Allan urged her to continue with his eyes. There was no persistence or morbid curiosity – just a welcome spark which allowed her to open up to her student – her friend, to be more exact. He was, in a way, the kind of young bypasser who would often listen and dismiss problems with an airy comment and his humor, as teeth-grittingly irritating as it may be, was always refreshing.

Wendy narrowed her eyes, pausing, "Are you going to have another heart-to-heart with me, Mr A'Dale?" she chuckled, "I have quite missed your endless conversations."

Allan grinned, hopping of the desk and walking the older woman out of the lecture hall.

"What's wrong with the kid?" Allan threw the apple core in the waste paper basket as he neared the door.

"Lukaemia," The redhead smiled weakly, "He's having chemotherapy, at the moment, so I'm -"

"Checkin' up on him?"

"Yes."

Noticing the hint of distress in the woman's eyes, the student swung his arms energetically and glanced around the corridor. There were no students in sight, thankfully, and the nostalgic sound of bells rang through the campus. "Ice cream?" he offered, gesturing towards the van nearing the campus greenery.

Sizing up her options, then realizing that there was no harm in sharing a conversation with a student over an ice cream, Wendy nodded. This wasn't too much of a risk, was it? "Just one, maybe."

-- --

_HOUSES OF RESIDENCE_

The metallic shriek from the taps slowly brought Robin around from his sleep. He blinked rapidly in the haze of light from the kitchen window and, through blurry eyes, watched Marian carefully place a bunch of vibrant sunflowers in a vase of water. Her chestnut curls had been roughly pulled back into a practical bun and splatters of pancake batter decorated her apron.

"Stop staring," the young woman demanded, still facing the window.

Rolling his eyes at her back, he let loose a wary yawn and peered at his watch. "I have to go," he mumbled, pushing himself off the couch and brushing biscuit crumbs off his shirt, "Allan's meeting me with the rest of his class, later."

Marian turned around to face her boyfriend, amused. "To win more people over?" she teased playfully.

Robin flashed an impish grin, "Yeah," he joked.

"You might not want to run around campus in your boxers," she jerked a thumb at the tattered jeans hanging over the side of the sofa, smiling as Robin hastily pulled them on.

"An officer caught you speeding on campus, yesterday," Marian warned as he zipped up his trousers, "he might be working for Vasey – and now he knows that you're still on site."

"Even if he did, I can handle it," scoffed the reply.

"How?"

"You know me," Robin winked.

"What would you do?" the young woman rested her hands on her hips, growing serious. There was so much of his self-assertive nature she could take, and her limits were being dramatically pushed. "Break into his office, again?" she paused, considering her next words. Deciding to follow Allan's 'better out than in' motto, she added, "Just to be called a 'hero'. That's all this is about."

"I'll be your hero, Marian," Robin puffed up his chest, soaring about the kitchen with one arm in front of him. "Batman style."

Marian rolled her eyes, "It's Batman and Robin," she corrected, "That would make _me_ Batman and you - Robin."

Robin's arm fell at the thought. "There are no female superheros," he competed, "You can't be one."

Without even trying to defend herself with her inspirational knowledge about Wonder Woman and the likes, she shifted the conversation to the point. "You have no superpowers," she reasoned coolly, "And you're not going to swing around the campus looking for trouble."

Robin waved off her rage, closing the gap between them to wipe a little raw pancake off her cheek. "Honestly," he admonished, licking the batter off his finger, "It's as if you don't care about the Uni at all!" he teased.

With a sudden burst of fury and anguish, Marian pushed his hand away as if it were coated in venom. How dare he say such a thing. "Oh, I _really_ don't care," she stated coldly, making Robin flinch from the contempt in her airy voice. "How silly of me to not take stupid risks; actually _meeting _the governers and _buying_ – not stealing – supplies for the students."

"Hang on -"

"I should really take a leaf out of your book, Robin Hood," she continued icily, "and perhaps try to get myself arrested."

"Oh, _I'm so sorry!_" Robin threw his hands up in the air exaggeratedly, "I really should be following _your_ lead," he mocked, "That's it – I'm going to town to buy a see-through blouse, then I'll flirt with Guy Vasey."

Marian narrowed her gaze, feeling the bridge of trust and understanding between them slowly crumble. She couldn't believe that, from all of the leers he could have hurled her way, he purposely picked the most insulting and painful one of all.

"I thought we understood," her voice stung bitterly, "About Guy. I'm doing this for information, you know that."

"Oh, right," Robin sneered, "Information! That's what it's called."

"Grow up."

"No wonder you looked a bit displeased when I marched into that party," he raised an eyebrow, "Was I interrupting something between you two?"

But the envy dispersing it's seeds in Robin's heart had only more time to yield as the words tumbled out of his mouth with no control, no hinderance. "The amount of girls I see," he continued quietly, his eyes turning stony, "Who just use any excuse to _use_ other people – they just want control, Marian. You're always one of them, aren't you?"

"I'm always what?" Marian folded her arms in defence.

"You've always been an upper class slut."

A slut. A slut. Marian balled her hands into fists, feeling the anger swell inside her – inflating with every word that left his lips. The hands, the leers she had faced...all rough, penetrating – but not penetrating enough, not enough to expose the true conviction, the desire to become all that she could be. But Robin had rescued her, when she had been scrambling through the dark on her hands and knees to find herself – the woman wanting to escape the unjust Hell they lived in – and guided her towards liberation. But, now, he'd placed her in a darker room full of more obstacles. She closed her eyes. _Just_ _more difficulties_. His understanding was a lie – she had returned to her position, a headstrong, _misunderstood _possession...

He didn't know her at all.

"An upper class slut?" she opened her eyes, the glacier blue had darkened. "Is that it? Aren't you goin' to grope me, like the others boys? Or try to get me in bed, again?"

Robin frowned. He was trying to take back his previous words, the ones which had slipped involuntarily from his mouth in pure frustration. But, the midst of an apology, she dropped another rock on his toe. "I can't believe you're -" he felt the sour taste of betrayal spreading through his body, "I thought we agreed to take things slow, and I did."

"And I'm sure you were over the moon, after our first night," Marian whispered, "To have me as your little trophy to lean on. A _slut_."

"C'mon, I really didn't mean that," Robin nodded apologetically, "I'm sorry, right. We're in this together, all of it – the Dooh Nibor gang is mine and yours, you know that -"

"They don't belong to you," Marian spat, "And I don't belong to you, either."

"I didn't say that."

"But you meant it," she insisted, breathless, "You own and leave everything and everybody, and you think you own me, too! And if I'm too much, you'll just _go_. Just like every other man on this planet. You'll get yourself arrested, as if I mean nothing to you, and then...leave."

Marian pressed a hand to her stomach, feeling anxiety rush through her abdomen. There was more to this argument, and she was just beginning to understand it. Marian properly peered down at her abdomen and found herself frozen in awe and terror. She had been avoiding the truth for too long now, for so long that she had convinced herself that it didn't exist. "You'll leave me."

"I'm sorry about calling you -," Robin left his apology incomplete, the word 'slut' too filthy to be repeated. "But what is this all about? You and me?"

That small, pulsing addition was throbbing beneath her fingers, pleading for an input. Not now. She couldn't tell him, not just yet. It was all too much – for herself. _Damn_, she cursed herself. Why did she depend on a man? What was God thinking when he made Adam?

"Us and our fight against the Principal," she dried her eyes with the back of her hand and pulled up a proud stance. "That's all that matters."

"_You _matter to me," Robin's voice broke, he reached forward to grab hold of her wrist.

Marian pulled away. "No, I thought I did," she sniffed, "But I was wrong. You don't even_ know_ me, Robin Hood." She pressed a trembling hand to her stomach. "You just don't know any of it."

--

DERELICT BASEMENT

Much placed an arm around his friend's shoulders, hoping to be some kind of support – something to lean on, as he always had been. But there was more panic and worry in his tone than comfort, as he mumbled under his breath, "Is it – bad?"

Will's eyes were tinted red, though his eyelids weren't as pink and raw as Marian's – who was being awkwardly embraced by Penelope. "It's over, Much," Will murmured, glancing forlornly at the looming walls of the basement; their solid greyness as sturdy as the truth ringing in his ears. "I pushed it too far, this time."

Much's grasp tightened on his shoulder. "C'mon, couples argue, right?"

Will shook his head, "When I asked her again, and she told me..."

"Saffiyah's arms, right?" Much lowered his voice, "What did she say?"

Will swallowed, finding a bitter smile touch his lips. "Somebody in London," he explained breifly, finding the subject too perplexing to describe in detail what the man had done. "The landlord, the one who owned the block of flats she lived in – because of her family -" he paused, shaking his head, glancing across the room at the older student. She was crying, just as Saffiyah had been. "Look at us," he laughed shakily at Marian, "Bawling our eyes out."

"Is Saff alright?" Marian wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, her voice trembling badly – broken from her argument with Robin. Her body was curled on Penelope's slim frame, in a foetus position. "Where is she, now?"

"I don't know."

Much glanced worriedly across the room at Penelope. Her face was solemn, but almost sleepy, which only worried him more. The way her arms were slung around Marian's waist, pale and bluish and her body swaying in time to her sobs, it was as if she was some sort of angelic spirit – in a completely different world to everybody else. Even as Marian's tears trickled down her arm, it was as if she couldn't feel a thing.

"_Love, love, love_," Penelope sang quietly, her voice frail and tinny over Marian's wracking body, "Why slit your throat when you could fall in love?"

Much flinched and Will rubbed at his eyes and glared at the girl in confusion. "What?" the photographer's voice croaked.

"Look at Marie whimpering," Penelope gazed into the distance, "You're breaking in half – just because of a lover's tiff."

Marian pushed her friend away, turning away from the young men so as to not be caught in such a state for any longer. _This was embarrassing_. There was dignity to uphold, her father had taught her that. "It's not just a tiff," she stated woodenly, standing up. She didn't feel like going into further detail. It was all too much for a girl of her – well, position. She scolded her own thoughts – _what position?_ There were plenty of other women, worth as much as her, in this predicament. She held a fist against her stomach, pressing it inwards..._Go away. Go away._

"_So_," Penelope concluded, thoughtfully peering at Will, then Marian. "You've both been, like, pushed away."

_Pushed away?_ Will felt the tears burn in his eyes. He hadn't accepted defeat yet.

"But, there are ways -" the dazed girl continued, "To turn it around, bring them back."

Much let go of Will's shoulders and shot her a frightened stare, "No! I said no more drugs," he shook his head sternly, "I told you, Penelope, that's no way to escape -"

Penelope let loose an airy laugh, hugging her knees gleefully at Much's reaction. "Of course not, sausage," she smiled mischievously, "Instead of putting two and two together, we'll stick together the _ones_ and _threes_..."

"What?" Much burst out, growing more confused and irritated by her twisted words.

Penelope pointed a pale finger at a baffled Will, and then pointed the finger at a defiant Marian. She turned back to Much and flashed him a meaningful wink.

"Oh."

- --

**There will be more detail about Saffiyah's scars in the next chapter. We know, now, that the culprit was somebody in her old flat.**

**Eughh. What do you think?**

**Was it too abstract or melodramatic?**

**Next up: There's going to be a couple mix-around. But, oodles of fluff!**

**Please review :-)**


	11. Rolling

"This isn't good."

Much fidgeted with his bow tie, glancing worriedly at Penelope in the corner of his eye. She was swaying and humming to the music as if casting a spell, and he half expected her to pull out a magic wand and cry _wingardium leviosa_. Nobody in this student union ball would take an interest in her. Hell, she was a former snob, most of them would detest her. But she had shredded all of her designer pretenses and had dressed herself in a simple, turquoise gown with her platinum hair glowing celestially in contrast. "You look nice," he added awkwardly.

Penelope's eyes lit up at Much's voice and she gazed at the young man hungrily as he turned away. A hand rested on her shoulder and she ignored the touch until the gesture jiggled her violently.

"'Ello?" Allan pronounced slowly, shaking the slim girl by the arm, "Is she stoned again?" he asked Much.

Much ignored the comment nodded at the young man's attire. Only Allan A'Dale could pull off a velvet waistcoat and ridiculous kilt and still have the rest of the student body drooling. Noticing the stares of admiration he was receiving, he spun around in a tartan blur then gave Much's bow tie a tweak.

"Lookin' good mate," Allan commented, watching Much's ears turning red in response. The athletic student turned to Penelope, who was blinking her glazed eyes expectantly for his compliment.

"You look -" Allan raised an eyebrow, "Like a fairy on acid, babe."

Much rolled his eyes. "What if the principal finds us, Allan?"

"Relax," the student scoffed, "This is the town hall, mate – not the campus. The principal has no say around this joint," Allan grinned, then skimmed over his words, eyeing Penelope, "Oh, I didn't mean _joint_, I meant _place_."

Penelope smiled.

"Like a drug-free student union party," Allan quipped, "No pilling or anythin', you know, yeah."

Penelope continued smiling.

"Uh, I'll see you later."

-- -- -

Allan swam easily through the crowd, sending winks here and there, slapping some familiar faces on the back and giving jolly examples of the 'Highland Fling' to make the girls giggle. Who'd have thought that his sister's old school kilt would be such a hit?

"Now," came an amused female voice, "What's this 'Highland Fling'?"

"It's a Scottish dance -" Allan began to explain for the umpteenth, turning to face the speaker. He paused to take in the vision before him, his eyebrows slowly disappearing beneath his blonde curls. "Miss Evans?"

The older redhead had pulled back her hair into a sleek bun, the copper tones accented by the dim lights. The grey of her skirt suit had been replaced by a simple, emerald dress and a bangle dangled delicately from her wrist as she politely waved at a fellow colleague. Her other hand held an elegant glass filled with a lime tonic and caused Allan to internally kick himself up the backside, _how did he of all people forget to bring alcohol?_

"John," Allan nodded at the passing teacher, Mr Little, who gave him a gruff greeting.

"So, Mr A'Dale," Wendy redirected her student's attention, "I was hoping you'd show me how this Highland Fling goes..."

"I could teach you," Allan offered cheekily, holding out a hand.

Wendy twisted her lips into a cunning smile, "Or I could teach _you_," she corrected, "My mother was from Aberdeen."

"Oh?" Allan rested his hands on the hips of his kilt.

"I know a good barn dance," Wendy challenged, taking a sip from her glass.

Allan considered the notion for a second, his eyes drawn towards the bar on the other side of the hall. The amber bottles and ice clinked alluringly to him, the shot glasses slamming ceremoniously on the marble table tops. _There were ways, and_ _there were ways_. Allan grinned devilishly at the older woman. "A gin and tonic, and then you can show me your barn dance."

Wendy cocked an eyebrow at the younger man. "I don't know if I shou -"

"Of course you can," Allan scoffed, nodding his head at the lecturers chatting freely with their students, scattered around the room. "We're friends, right?"

Wendy considered the offer for a second, staring into her glass as if in plea for an answer. Temptations pointed in the direction of truly becoming letting herself go, the bubbles streaming alongside the slice of lemon in her drink. Only God knows how long it took her to mark those assignments, last night. She deserved this.

"C'mon, Miss Evans, you deserve it," Allan wheedled, as if reading her mind.

Wendy glanced up up from her drink with a thoughtful expression, repetitively running a finger around the glass rim. Maybe, maybe not. _Was this wise? _

Allan had clasped his hands together in a begging fashion, his azure eyes so doleful and large that she burst out laughing.

"Fine," Wendy surrendered, allowing herself to be lead towards the bar, "But I'm not Miss Evans, remember?"

"Yes, Wendy," the younger man saluted and propped himself on a stool. He turned to bartender, "Gin and tonic, mate. And vodka shots," he waggled his eyebrows knavishly at Wendy, "Keep them comin'."

- -- -

The stilettos were already causing havoc on the balls of her feet, but Marian winced through the pain. She couldn't risk look like a dwarf in comparison to her date, obviously, who managed to make everybody appear dramatically short and plump with his endless legs and craning neck. She had to admit, the usually scrawny Will looked rather handsome in his silk tie (handsome enough to stir jealousy in Robin, hopefully) – which was apparently borrowed from another student in his Photography class – and the olive hue brought out the murky green of his eyes...Which seemed to be searching through a silver lens for a particular person.

"Will you stop it?" Marian hissed, simultaneously grinning enthusiastically at their welcoming audience. "Just put the bloody camera down."

Will frowned, sliding his most treasured possession into his pocket. He turned to Marian and awkwardly allowed her arm to be hooked through his. Will noted that the older student couldn't look more agitated if she tried – even the beauty of her crystal eyes were clouded in fear – fear that Will assumed would be whether Robin had turned up at the event or not. But her constant fidgeting and habit pressing her hand to her abdomen did not go unnoticed by the young man's observant eyes, either.

"D'you feel sick or something?" Will whispered cautiously to Marian, tensing his muscles as her arm felt alien around his own.

Marian shook her head slightly. _Damn, it wouldn't be long before she did feel sick... _"No, I'm fine."

She ran her fingers through her hair, fluffing up the chocolate waves, and searched the endless sea of students. There seemed to be a crowd gathering around the bar, where an inebriated couple appeared to be kicking up their legs in some sort of river-dancing fashion – but she ignored the scene, her mind fully occupied by other matters and people. Where was Robin? Or, for the sake of her nervous date, Saffiyah?

- -- --

Allan clambered onto his hands and knees, pushing himself onto the worktop to grab hold of the older woman's thin ankles. He gripped the cold edges of the table, partly for easier access and partly because his inability to balance on his limbs. He smirked to himself as Wendy tottered like a new foal along the marble cat walk. _For a composed bird, she's a bit of a party animal with a few shots in her._

"This is what a real barn dance looks like!" Wendy shrieked over the volume of warning voices and throbbing music, her body two feet above everybody else's. It was if all reality and routine had dissipated and the only thing that mattered was her rediscovered teen years. "C'mon, kid -" she tugged at Allan's sleeve, "Let's show them how it's done!"

"Miss Evans," Allan laughed, watching the lecturer twist on her heels and smash a bottle underfoot. Liquid sprayed in foaming gulps over her shoes, but she seemed to be concentrating more on her dance routine than the state of her clothes. "Not bein' funny – but I think you need a bit of fresh air, I reckon."

"_I'm_ the teacher around here," Wendy slurred, wagging her finger in every direction as she bent down to Allan's level. "And I'll tell you what needs do-doing, _do you hear me?_"

The crowd had begun to thicken and faces of authority could be seen, filtering through the chuckling students like grey clouds of disapproval. The bartender had surrendered to the lady, as her presence seemed to bringing the business far more customers than average, but there were certain faces even a boozy Allan felt ashamed of being witnessed by.

Most of the her dress had been soaked and the scent of gin and brandy wafted from her body as she writhed. Allan shook his head, spotting a fleck of blood around her ankle where the smashed bottle had grazed her skin. _Time to go._

Summoning all of his strength, he grabbed hold of Wendy's legs and hauled her flailing body off the bar worktop. With a wave towards his whistling fans, Allan hastily jogged out of the town hall with his Philosophy lecturer thrown over one shoulder. _Jesus,_ the things he got himself into...

-- --

Marian clutched Will's arm, frozen. She was in the midst of explaining to the younger student exactly why they were here – and what they were doing. Just once, even it was in only her favour, and the whole situation could be corrected. Their lost ones would see the light and, perhaps...

No.

She wasn't expecting this. And she definitely wasn't expecting him to look so poised and...content. Content!?

There stood Robin, mere meters away, pride and all, posing at various angles as if he owned the entire University. He looked so buff and..._No. No feelings_. Her heart squeezed at the thought that he had really taken their separation in his stride – as if the argument was already history,_ did he really feel none of the pain? _And, to only rub more salt into the wound, Robin hadn't joined the union ball alone.

No, she had been replaced.

Marian's fingers dug deeper into the fabric of Will's jacket, burrowing themselves to receive a comforting anchorage. But the young man could supply no reassurance as he, himself, was mortified.

_Hypocrite_, Marian spat at herself. Why was she so surprised? It was as if she was looking into a mirror, only finding the scrawny freshman replaced by a cocky student with an Eastern jewel danging on his arm, instead of her pale self. The young woman was repulsively beautiful and Robin looked...painfully content. So content that it hurt.

_It really hurts._

Her stomach clenched in realization.

The willowy, glittering woman pressed to Robin's side was no stranger. No, she hadn't ever dreamed that this would happen. And she could only imagine the rage flooding Will's system as she felt his thin body shudder beside hers.

"What - Saffiyah?" Marian whispered, "They came together?"

- --

The vulgar, overpowering musk of cologne that assaulted her nostrils could be none other than the young man beside her. Robin. Saffiyah wrinkled her nose, repulsed by her friend.

The sheer feeling of being thrown raw and exposed onto a scorching deck of limelight could never be a more appropriate contemplation than now. Her lips were strained into a dry line – it was too sickening and foreign to be smiling under the circumstances.

She was still aching with worry, torn by her confusion and that unrelenting nature of hers to immediately build walls between herself and the people she loved...And now, she had driven away the one person she loved in the world.

"_Look -"_ She could still feel Will's breath on her neck, the rough fingertips pressing urgently into her arms, _"You can't just ignore this, Saffiyah – I want to know, I want to help you -"_

She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to drown out the argument that was still wafting, as lucid as ever, through her memory. Her lips mumbled the words echoing from before. Those stupid, stupid words that plucked her from bliss and landed her here – in this stupid, _stupid_ mess.

"_If the state of my disgusting skin bothers you so much – why don't you just leave me alone?"_

"They're watching us," Robin mumbled into her ear, breaking the trance.

She opened her eyes, redeeming herself, and twitching the glittering length of material over her body. Funny, how she'd found a dress with long sleeves. _How very fitting_.

Robin was sharp as always – full of rage and determinaton– but always ahead of the others. Of course, he would trace Marian's next move in a second. And intercepting her was the most thrilling of all. It was, inevitably, still a challenging game in the eyes of her leader. Those very eyes glinted menacingly into the distance. _How did he do that? How did he make it look so easy?_ Saffiyah looked up into her friend's blue eyes, noticing that his deception had limits - as his pupils were engulfed by Marian's distant figure.

Robin's hand naturally found a path around Saffiyah's waist, settling there and pressing her into his side. She reveled, sadly, in his clutch. His fingers were thicker than Will's. His palms smaller and he touched her as if she would willingly shape under his fingers the way Marian's curves would mould into his touch – But, she wasn't Marian. _No_. And, causing more torment in Saffiyah's soul, Robin had none of Will's careful movements. The young photographer would hold her, annoyingly, as if she was made of glass – And she missed his cautious touch more than anything in the world.

Saffiyah followed Robin's gaze, still squirming from his discomforting hold, resting her brown eyes coldly on the couple before her.

_Ha!_ She wanted to point a shaking finger at their horrified faces. _Did Will truly think it was over? That she had no idea about their plot of vengeance?_ Saffiyah glared at the pair smugly; they looked utterly bewildered, which delighted a cold, unforgiving side of Saffiyah. But the way Marian clung to Will's arms in her stupor only chilled her blood further. Will – her Will - was touching _her_.

"Hold onto me," Saffiyah hissed into Robin's ear, her mind spinning in a dizzying combination of betrayal and envy. Her scientific mind grasped the nature of the situation and how she could manipulate this futher. "This has to look convincing."

- --

The photographer's scrutinizing eyes latched onto Robin's hand resting on Saffiyah's back. _That filthy, vile paw_. Even from this distance, the torture was all too much – and all too sudden.

Will gritted his teeth.

Robin's fingers curled around her waist as Saffiyah whispered endearingly into his ear. _What was she doing? How did this happen? How did an argument lead to tears of heartbreak...Then to this? _

To Will's horror, the hand moved again. Swiftly running down the twinkling gold of Saffiyah's dress...

"That bastard," the quiet photographer broke his silence, ready to launch himself at Robin, only to be held back my Marian's hand against his collarbone.

"No," she warned, her voice trembling with anticipation as she dug her nails desperately into Will's collar and pulled him towards her.

In that second, all boundaries were pushed. Nothing could express the amount of pure shame running through Marian's veins as Will's body stumbled into hers, her mouth colliding with his as they toppled backwards in a rush of desperation and pain. She felt like a predator, sinking her teeth into an innocent deer who – in the midst of the violent kiss – floundered, more drawn towards taking care of things physically than pushing on urgently with the plan.

But this had to be done. She had to show Robin exactly how it feels. The passion and anger towards Robin was channeled through Marian's kiss and she wove her arms over Will's thin frame, pressing herself notoriously against his chest – not feeling a thing towards the photographer, but using him as an example. _This is how it feels to be used, Robin Hood._

But Will stood there, hanging from the girl's lips, eyes wide in shock but not daring to pull away. He could hear Marian's laboured breathing against his cheek, almost as heavy as his own as they watched their loved ones out of the corner of their eye.

Spectating from the snack table, Penelope clapped her hands together in glee. "This is great," she gushed, prodding a spellbound Much in the side.

- -- --

Feeling the power of manipulation drift from her form like a soft vapor, Saffiyah watched the display of affection before her. The calculating smile fell from her face.

This was a step she had no idea they would take. And, in that moment, she was convinced that she was defeated. It was truly over.

_They're kissing._

Marian's ivory arms, disgustingly flawless as always, were wrapped around Will's neck so tightly that Saffiyah was sure there was not an inch of bare air between the couple. Her former friend's fingers were laced through his dark hair and Will's eyes hands were hesitating about her hips – _too hypnotized by her beauty to move, yet_, Saffiyah thought bitterly.

With tears burning in her eyes, she pushed Robin's wandering hand away and fled from the hall before anybody witnessed her so vulnerable.

"This is _not_ good," Much swung his body off the edge of the snack table, sprinting towards Robin's distant figure in attempt to restrain his fist before it killed Will, "Penelope – ," he cried, "What have we done?"

**I really didn't know how to 'type out' the vision in my brain. I'm sorry if this chapter was too rushed and disappointing – but I hope you understand what's happening...**

**Marian and Will were set up in hope of showing Saffiyah and Robin what they were missing. (Blame Penelope!) And Robin, being a sharp one, intercepted the pass by taking Saffiyah with him to the Union Ball.**

**Please review? x**


	12. Her

_NOTTINGHAM TOWN HALL, LADIES TOILETS_

"Hush little baby, don't say a word…" The young woman's eerie voice hummed over the throb of his temple whilst a cool moisture was pressed gently to the wound. "Mama's gonna buy you a mocking bird…"

The only thought that managed to dull the painful sting of the bruise forming across his brow bone was the small glimmer of hope that Will's split lip would continue to bleed for ever touching Marian's lips. Robin smirked to himself, then winced from the sting that cut sharply through his smug thoughts. _A small price to pay_.

Much was breathing heavily, his previous words lingering in the bathroom like a panicked echo. His chest rose and fell, doubling the frustration with every breath. There was nothing else to say. This wasn't the first time he had ended up like this; arms folded, sitting at a warning distance from his injured friend. It wasn't the first time, and he feared it wouldn't be the last.

The tuneful whispering continued over each pat to the wound, the violet hue blemishing Robin's skin, "And if that mocking bird won't sing, Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring…"

"Penelope!" Robin burst out, angrily tearing the damp napkin off his forehead and pointing a stern finger at the dazed girl, "I forbid you to sing," he demanded. He retreated, cradling his wound with one hand.

Much shook his head and muttered calmly, "You're never going to apologize, until it's too late."

"Will you stop talking?" Robin barked, wincing at the volume of his own echo. He swallowed, staring hopelessly into his hands for a second, allowing his two friends to lull him into peace by their disapproving silence. His peripheral vision caught Penelope wipe the bloody residue from her pale hands and rest them in her lap as if she was deaf to his words. Much's eyes, as they were in the last ten minutes, continued to bore holes in side of his head.

"So, I should apologize," Robin mumbled reluctantly under his breath.

Much, exchanging a disappointed glance with Penelope, sighed, "We sort of organized this whole thing so that you'd learn something."

Organized this whole thing? _What else did his stupid sidekick arrange?_ "Learn what, exactly?" Robin glared.

"How to appreciate the girl," Penelope's voice whispered. Not dreamy or clouded, but piercingly sharp – the venom behind her words caused Robin to flinch in effect. Approaching Much to lay a hand on his shoulder, she tacked on - "Yes, Marie told me."

"Why d'you keep calling her Marie?" Robin diverted the conversation, frowning at the ghost-like young woman by Much's side, "Is that some sort of dodgy French nickname you made up?"

"Darling, why did you call her a slut?"

"After seeing her get off little Willy, I don't know how you'd disagree." Robin smirked bitterly, touching the raw flesh above his eye, "But I guess those pills are takin' their toll with your brain, Penelope."

"You never learn," The third student whispered, shrugging off Penelope's hand. "You always do this – always driving the people you love away. That's how it ended like this."

Robin laughed, crossing his arms to buff his fraying authority, "I swear, you sound more gay by the day."

"You're always stuck in your own mess, Robin," Much ignored the feeble remark and whipped off his glasses, his heart pounding with his suppressed anxiety. "You just throw it all away, Robin. I've watched you all my life, you know. I've dug you out every time."

"Throw it away?" The leader smirked coldy, tracing circles around his wound. "I wish I could chuck you away, but you never leave me alone, Much."

Penelope hummed soothingly under her breath, lacing her slim fingers over Much's elbow, insistently. His skin was hot beneath her fingertips – the muscles clenching with every word exchanged.

"No," Much shrugged, half attempting to truly weaken her hold, half wanting to dislodge her grasp to allow him to wipe the tears beckoning in his eyes. "I would just leave you, but _no_. I can't – As much as I hate you, I can't."

"God," Robin felt the chill consume his heart, numbing him from within - that part of his soul where Much's undying support resided – was slowly hardening with an unforgiving ice. He glanced away, finding an emotionless smile capture his lips. "Much, I find it quite sickening to watch a grown man cry."

"Do you what I think is sick?" Much spat, hoping to disguise the tremble that had passed through his lips. "The way a grown man hurts every person he passes and doesn't even know it."

Penelope's faraway humming slipped over the tension, unable to thaw the atmosphere between the two friends. Instead, it lingered like a war cry in Robin's ears.

"When your dad left," Much continued, "Carol wasn't wasn't to blame. But you left her crying in the middle of the kitchen floor. I remember when you left her - your mum – to find yourself in Iran."

Robin lowered his gaze, slowly cracking his knuckle in his right fist. A small trace of Will's blood remained smeared across his hand; the brown stain painfully familiar.

"We were waiting for days, all of us," Much persisted, his voice rising, "And she was broken."

Robin's eyes remained descended, his former burst of bitterness curling at the edges and forming a tight curl of regret. _There was so just so many mistakes, being made again and again._

"And even after I convinced you come back to England and join the uni –"

"I'm fighting for this university," Robin's voice broke with such despair that it shocked him. He detected the thick tone in his throat and returned to investigating his knuckles, lowering his voice. The overwhelming regret in chest was less of a pang – more of sticky, consuming hunger to correct his flaws. "I'm making things right, Much. Aren't I?"

"No. Look at Marian, look at your family," Much swallowed. "You're always fighting away the people who love you. But – I'll never leave, as much I bloody try."

The last words spoken were heavy with surrender and Much buckled at the strength of his own sound. He glanced at his small audience and scrambled through his pocket to retrieve his glasses, slipping them on his nose as a familiar barricade of bashful reserve. He exhaled the pain in his lungs and wiped his eyes with his sleeve, before Penelope took any considerable notice.

For the first time in his life, his palm traced with dark red, Robin looked up at his friend with true gratitude in his eyes. "Sorry, mate."

_Perhaps_, he thought to himself as Much fidgeted nervously with his spectacles, _this was the first step to appreciation._

--

_DERELICT BASEMENT_

Only the shattered paintings of last night's neon-tinted drama were soaring painfully through the exhausted lecturer's mind. She had managed to burrow herself, after God knows what she could remember, in a mass of foreign grey. Some sort woolen blanket, in fact. Wendy held a piece of the material to her nose, squinting through the tunnel of soft fibres, and inhaled the scent of boastful peppermint and stale beer…The extravagance that reeked…

"Allan A'Dale!" Wendy scrambled out of the knotted fabric, her head emerging far enough for her to gasp his name. "Where the Hell am I?"

Meeting her very scarcely-clothed body with a sudden rush of chilling air, she shuffled back down into the warm nest of fleece as the young man approached her with a tray of stolen canteen food, a pathetic grin on his face.

"Morning, sweetheart," Allan cooed, shaking off his hood and placing the buttered toast on her lap. His kilt was still swaying, tauntingly, beneath his sweater. "How you feelin'?"

Wendy's eyes almost ogled out of her sockets as she held a limp piece of breakfast in her fingers, trying to absorb her surroundings and Allan's words…_Sweetheart? What happened to 'Miss Evans'?_

Feebly fingering the warm bread, she frowned, "So this is your hideout, I suppose?" she tucked a piece of matted auburn hair behind one ear and inspected the looming walls with distaste. "It's…homey."

"Yeah," Allan leaned across the grey blankets with a sickly smile. He rested his cheek on one hand and prized a red curl from behind Wendy's ear with his other, tenderly twisting it around his finger.

Astonished by his forwardness, Wendy shuffled out of the younger man's reach and hugged her knees protectively, feeling awkwardly like a child. There was a certain glassiness to the student's eyes that sent a lurch of worry through Wendy's system. Surely, nothing could have taken place last night that she wasn't at least _remotely _aware of… "Allan?"

"Hmm?"

"God - This looks awful, but, what exactly," Wendy cleared her throat, failing to redeem her authority – _impossible to do when wrapped in your student's blanket. _"What exactly – did – what happened, last night?" she breathed anxiously.

"Oh, you know."

"No," Wendy crossed her arms sternly, "No, I don't."

Allan raked a hand through his blonde curls, now crouched on top of the blankets. To Wendy's horror, he grabbed the hem of his sweater with both hands and ripped off the garment in a large swing, exposing his bare torso.

"What on earth?" Wendy gasped, pressing her blanket to her mouth in shock.

Scurried red lip-marks tinted the skin over the student's chest, apparently rushed kisses trailing from his shoulders to his stomach and further…? Wendy shook her head in terror, recognizing the red stains. She removed the blanket from her mouth, touching the pink remainder of lipstick on her face.

"Yeah," Allan's eyes were glazed with sickly emotion, "You and me, my love."

Wendy clutched the blanket, slowly rocking backwards and forwards for comfort. "Oh God, I can't have," she whispered, "A student. Oh my God. Why did I – Oh God…"

Allan dropped his eyes in shame.

"I'm going to be fired," she swallowed, then shook herself, "Oh, Allan. This is it. I'm sorry," she stared at the student, suddenly frozen, "I shouldn't have done anything so disgusting," she spat, repulsed by her behavior. "I can't believe I would sink so low…"

"'Ere," Allan chuckled nervously, shaking off his hyponised stance, "Nothin' actually happened."

"I think I'll find the principal," Wendy plotted under her breath, "I'll have to resign..."

Allan frowned, holding up a palm to pause the older woman's babbling, "Listen! – I was just playin' with you -"

"Stop it, Allan," Wendy clenched her fists, "It was a whole lot of mindless playing that got us here in the first place..."

"Miss Evans," Allan laughed at her words, "Look at me, alright?" he made a vague gesture towards the red scuffs around his bare chest, "This is just your lipstick, yeah."

"I know, I know. I was so _vile_…"

"I just wanted to have a little fun -"

"Allan!" Wendy cried, shaking with rage, "I'm your lecturer. I can't even fathom how terrible having a 'little fun' is."

"I just nicked some lipstick out of you purse," Allan pronounced slowly, his eyes wide with sincerity as he embarrassedly pulled on his T-shirt to hide the exposed skin. "I would never do somethin' like that," he stated with earnest, "I was just wanted to have a laugh, just to see your reaction if it looked like -"

A hard, slap punctuated Allan's speech.

The ringing smack from the strike of skin mingled with a sound of Wendy's heavy breathing and the hammering of her heart. "Don't you ever try your childish games out on me," she warned, her body flooded by a mix of relief and fury. "Ever."

"I'm sorry," Allan whispered. He touched the source of the echo on his cheek, staring incredulously at the older woman.

"This never happened," she stated calmly, eyeing Allan up and down. With a sudden change in attitude, she leapt out of the grey blankets and wrapped her arms around his shocked form in a grateful hug. "But thanks," she chuckled guiltily into his shoulder, "For scraping me off the floor, last night. I was a mess."

Allan smiled weakly. Risking a second slap, he remarked into the embrace, "I swear, Miss Evans, your mood goes up and down like a bloody yo-yo."

-- --

_LOCKSLEY VILLAGE_

"I'm so glad to see you again, my boy," Dan Scarlet strained his neck to turn back and gaze, fondly, at the conviction in his son's green verdant eyes. Even as the young man pushed his father along the darkening pavement, the father couldn't help but smile over the shuddering potholes on his journey.

Wills hands tightened on the handles of the wheelchair.

"Son?"

The student paused before entering the crossroads. "Dad," he whispered thickly, "I have no idea where she could be."

"How about ringing her phone?" Dan suggested mildly, remaining unaware of the intensity behind his son's romantic situation. He simply pictured Saffiyah as a pretty, foreign student who had obviously fallen for Will's artistic charms. _He was always a skilled one._

"Nothing," Will tightened his jaw, blinking rapidly into the clouds. He couldn't cry, not here or now. He couldn't allow his father to see him like this – unable to cope with the pressures of life.

"You'll find her," Dan closed his eyes, placing his hands neatly on his lap as he savored the force of his son's arms as he passed over the pavement. His body rattled freely along with the conversation, gliding over his son's thoughts and pains. "You were always a clever boy."

The photographer bowed his head, steadily pushing his father's body as platinum images flashed through his wistful mind. All of the still images, capturing those basement-ridden days, with no words – just the arch of her dark eyebrows as she laughed and smiled, her waist wrapped tightly by his arms…He could smell the worn cotton of her tattered jeans, and the enticingly tingling lemon of her shampoo. _It's strange, you can't usually smell photographs_. The second image was of Saffiyah's hands gripping onto the hard cover of her contemporary Koran as she prayed for forgiveness for their first sin – something she had lost sleep over, since their first night. More memories passed, still resilient and shining in all their glory – honored by the presence of…Saffiyah. Her eyes, the jumble of latin phrases spilling from her lips as she recited the ridiculous number of names for the organs in the human body…The chipped china in her hand, steaming with tea…The small smile on her face as he lay his head on her lap, succumbed to sleep from the warmth of her body…

Will bit his lip, hard. The flesh was still throbbing and swollen from Robin's blow. "Maybe I loved her too much."

Dan chuckled uncomfortably at the depth of the younger man's words. "You've always been a bit protective of the others," he scratched his neck, "Look at Lukey – he can barely cope without you."

Will shook his head knowingly. _It always came down to this_. "Dad, I can't come home."

"Son, uni's not an option for you, anymore," His father persuaded with a grave voice, "We need you to help – _I_ need 'elp," he surrendered.

"You wouldn't understand, Dad," Will sighed, "I'm fighting for the student body, I'm – I'm -" he stared guiltily at his father's balding crown. "I'm sorry I can't be there for you."

The soft words never reached the former craftsman's ears as a jovial pram carted past the father and son, a toddler wriggling gleefully in its comforting quilts and the mother wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. Dan stared down at his legs – those unyielding, limp ornaments of his past -and felt shame engulf his body. "You can stop, now," his voice thudded like a heavy rock over the distant burbling of the baby.

"What?" Will frowned.

"You're right," Dan receded, pushing his roughened palms against his rubber replacements. He took the rotating wheels of in both hands and swiftly rattled away. "You can't always be here for me. I'm alright by me-self."

Confusion flooded Will's body, his mouth opened slightly in pre-querie. He felt his hands release the handles of the wheelchair as it chugged away from him.

"Go find 'er, son."

-- --

_APARTMENT OUTSIDE NOTTINGHAM CAMPUS_

"Biscuit?"

"No thank you."

The amber light flooded like a wash of remembrance through the window as Saffiyah clutched her heavy book to her chest. She relished the vision of true light, finding it a pleasant change from the broken bulb hanging from a basement ceiling. That was no way to study.

"I'm going to have to revise some Arabic," she sighed, peering solemnly at the possession pressed to her front. "But I'm having a little trouble with focusing." Her caramel eyes searched for Mr. Little, who returned to her side with two steaming mugs.

The middle-aged man shifted his chair forward, fondly watching the girl sip her tea. It was difficult to predict how long he would keep her under his wing, but the former dorm-advisor felt a lull to protect the student – an emotion he was certain he had noticed in certain photographer.

"It'll be hard, lass," John's gravelly voice mumbled from under his thick beard, "But, in time, you'll manage."

Tears were held like hostages, hanging onto the cliffs on her eyelashes, daring to give in to gravity and release a sob of unrelenting emotion. She blinked them away, quietly dipping a finger into the hot liquid in her cup. "He used to make mine too sweet."

Carefully spooning more sugar into the student's tea, Mr Little's eyes crinkled with a knowing smile. "He did."

--

**PHEW.**

**To those of you lovely reviews who are sick of the angst – I promise you there will be more fluff than just erratic Wendy. **

**This was very rushed with emotion and….blergh. I hope you understand the basics:**

**Saffiyah, after witnessing a kiss between Will and Marian, has done a runner.**

**And Robin is beginning to understand his own selfishness.**

**A penny for your thoughts? x**


	13. Eyes

**Squeak! Apologies for the very delayed update.**

**WARNING (for the next two chapters): some offensive language used near the end. **

**- --**

_NOTTINGHAM COMMUNITY PARK_

"Penelope was Odysseus's wife," the young man slipped his spectacles in his jeans pocket and rubbed the pinch-marks on his nose, closing his eyes in mild content as he continued preaching. "And she'd always craft some sort of tapestry in her spare time."

"Like, why?"

Much rested his arms behind his head, enjoying the position of being sought-after. "I'm not sure, but – like I was saying – she was married to Odysseus," he smiled smugly at the inquisitive face dangling above his own; Penelope's legs being presently flung over the lower branch of the canopy as her platinum curtain of hair tickled the grass below. "But, when she'd finish her tapestry, she would have to marry another man."

The young woman's ivory cheeks grew an alien tinge of pink from gravity's effect. "Why?" Penelope hissed, unhooking her legs from the oak to drop herself onto the turf – the blood surging to her feet, once again.

"I dunno," Much waved his hand dismissively, his eyes still shut, "But Penelope made sure she'd never have to remarry by unraveling her tapestry at night, so that it was never finished."

"Clever," the modern-day Penelope remarked lightly, tilting her head to a side as she considered living in Ancient Greece. "So, she was, like, always married to Odysseus?"

"I think so," the student replied, deciding to tack on - "Penelope had a son called Italus, you know. King Italus, if I remember correctly."

"Italus. _My_ first child is, like, going to be called Italus."

"Your first child is goin' to be on crack," snorted the interruption.

"Allan," Marian warned her friend weakly, reclining beside Allan with her legs cautiously crossed in front of her. The glade was almost frighteningly open and before her, the musky scent of rain still hanging in the air as Allan roughly folded away the picnic blanket and sprawled himself out in patch of grass next to her. "Can we not talk about having children, please?" the young student mumbled into the triangular section of green turf between her legs.

"It's not that bad," Allan commented airily, positioning himself on his side. "Plenty o' girls 'ave been in your position, with babies and that," he plucked idly at the grass before him and tossed them carelessly over one shoulder. "My mum, for starters."

"How old was she when she had you?" Marian whispered, finding her hand slowly move under her belt. It had grown tighter over the first month and she had barely noticed.

"A lot younger than you," Allan smiled dryly at the young woman, "Only fifteen. 'Cause of some bloke who pounced on her one night."

"That bloke's your father," Marian countered.

"Sod him," came the retort, "He messed up – and I was sort of destined to follow in his footsteps."

"You never messed up anything," the student frowned, "Look at your position on the athletic team and uni -" Marian paused, glancing at the distant blocks of grey, "Well, that'll be sorted in time."

Allan fingered the damp moss circling the tree roots in a reminiscence, "I used to be a screwed up kid," his voice, although distant, still bounced with his usual rhythm, "I got expelled out of six schools and stole street signs all the time," he glanced up, "I never got a girl knocked up, though – I promised myself I'd never take a risk like that old sod."

Marian allowed a ghost of a smile to tease her lips as her friend continued. Much and Penelope seemed to be floating in bubble of Ancient Greece, oblivious to the topics being discussed on the other side of the tree and the short spell of envy towards their ignorance.

"But, I was still a weird boy. I'd put ketchup on nicked sanitary towels and sail them across the room in assemblies," Allan stated solemnly, "And, at parties, I'd hole-punch condoms and hand them out for free."

A blow to the arm brought the athletic student out of his recollection. "You rat!" Marian admonished, "Allan A'Dale, you could be the reason behind unwanted pregancies all over Nottingham!"

The offender smiled sheepishly and shrugged, deciding to plant the conversation back in sombre soil. "So you know what you gonna do?" he sighed, "you could just get rid of it."

"_It_ could be a he or a she," Marian glared hotly, reminding Allan of the girl's relentless morals and the way she – in status and determination – was always the focused fire and he was always the laughing breeze. Her hand returned to fingering the belt, feeling around the softness of her stomach through her loose blouse. "I haven't talked to Robin since...The union ball."

"Ah."

"I have to tell him," Marian swallowed, feeling the acceptance drop heavily into it's usual place. There was no point, she had advised herself, in shrugging off reality or running into the fields to escape the sickening regret holding captive the pit of her stomach. She had learned from an early age that action was the only medicine to life's torments – it was something that defined her from dawdling friend's like Penelope. "It happens to be his child, too."

"You know, I turned out alright" Allan offered, "I mean – I aced Philosophy and I'm a gold medaller in Javelin. Robin's a bright one and you've got nice tits – so your baby's gonna be perfect," he added, listening to Marian's breath hitch as she struggled to suck in her waistline. He gestured towards her figure, "It doesn't show."

"But it will. When it's too late."

- -- --

_CORRIDOR TO CARETAKER'S OFFICE_

Mr Little dropped the last textbook into the loaded bin liner and heaved the luggage onto his shoulder with a ceremonious grunt, sleeving a bead of sweat off his brow. With a small whistle, he nodded his head in the direction of the janitor's office and smiled as the student obediently followed.

"So, those are going to flats on the North-side?"

The bead twitched with a 'yes'.

"I'll start dividing them, then," Saffiyah announced, blowing the dust off the janitor's untouched desk and shuffling herself onto the edge as she carefully pulled out the first dictionary from Mr Little's sack of goods. "Spanish," she raised her eyebrows at the hardback, unable to resist the urge to take a peek.

"We haven't got long, lass," Mr Little murmured, taking an armful of pages out of the bag, "The officers are on patrol."

"Perdón."

"Us two can't be in here. We'll have to move them to -"

The pad of Timberland boots dragged past the window, the curt whistling bringing the two campus liberators to a sudden halt. To their relief, the footsteps slowly died away with distance.

"That was close," Saffiyah breathed, snapping the dictionary closed.

The distant air of whistling suddenly twisted a pitch as if in suspicion. The feet twisted along the floor tiles, the direction falling backwards. Towards them.

"Shh."

The pace of the passer's feet became slower. The gentle scuff of rubber, however, gradually increased in volume. Saffiyah's grip tightened on the edge of bag as the echo of footsteps became clearer to her ears. Ever so cautiously...the man returned, pacing steadily towards the door of the janitor's office. His face was hardly definable through the frosted pane, but the neon of his overall immediately struck the older man and student with horror.

The head turned, a palm pressing itself onto the window.

A pair of hawk eyes squinted through the glass, as narrowed as their chances of escaping the predicament that lay ahead.

"_Bollocks_," Mr Little cursed under his breath.

- -- -

_DERELICT BASEMENT_

The blaze flickered angrily, the rim of the tin slowly engulfed by a black soot as the newspaper singed into a charred tangle in the center of the basement floor, casting a tremulous light upon the walls and accenting the shadows on the inhabitants' faces. Will wiped the residue of ketchup off his stubble and tossed a shred of his burger wrapper into the can, allowing the flames to smother the litter.

The photographer's lower lip was still slightly swollen with a red tinge from his knuckle, although Robin had dismissed his own wound as a battle scar instead of a pounding from the freshman. The apology was all the more essential from the shrewish memories bouncing in slight hesitation from the older student's tongue, "Remember when you got that bike?"

A brow wrinkled in confusion.

"Dan couldn't drive you to school," Robin felt a squeeze on his right hand, Marian smiling encouragingly at his side, "And he found one in the car boot sale. That pink one."

Will glanced up at his friend with a cocked eyebrow.

"You loved it – the little tassles and everything. That bike."

Oh, he remembered and didn't want to pick out the important detail about the vehicle being specifically a tricycle. Humiliatingly enough, it was had become the schoolboy's staple mode of transport around Locksley and many of the children would often point at the fluorescent stallion in mockery.

"And some tail nicked it," Robin chortled in rememberance, "And I remember being in Year Five and finding the pink bike in the park, thinking I was going to give it back, then going home with a black eye from the crazy little bugger who found me riding it. You can pack a right punch, Scarlo."

Will smirked a little, staring down at the pale knuckles on his outstretched hand. The hand that was once small, still painfully bony and always quick to flush the palms with moisture at the sight of any young girl. The soft bruise where it had collided with Robin's brow lay prominent, beside a scar from his first skateboarding accident – another idea of his friend's.

"Was all a misunderstanding, mate," Robin explained, his tone quiet and sincere.

"I didn't want to -" Will nodded in the direction of Marian, who turned away awkardly and frowned into the broken light bulb in her lap with newfound curiosity.

Robin rolled his eyes at the young woman, who was intently rattling the fused filament, "Yeah, I know, she sucked your face off to get to me," he stated with seemingly practised ease, "And, we'll get Saff back. No worries."

"She won't be coming back."

"I promise you. We'll get her back."

The older student's eyes reflected reassurance that Will felt himself succumb to, as he had, year after year; trusting in his surrogate brother in an unquestionable worship. He was always his idol and there was a reason behind Robin's messiah-like position in their friendship – he was always true to his word. And, in that moment, his leader's declaration dissolved the tension between the two friends over the last week, allowing them both to surrender to a large embrace. Whilst the young men continued slapping each other roughly between the shoulder blades in a familiar routine, a mythological enthusiast rubbed at his lenses in approval.

"Even after twenty years," he whispered knowingly to sleeping bag at his side, "Penelope was always faithful to Odysseus."

The photographer broke apart from his companion with a soft punch on Robin's arm and snorted, "No gay metaphors, Much."

"Oh, I don't know..." Robin cooed, puckering up his lips - much to Penelope's amusement and Will's distaste. Marian, dropping the faulty light bulb and clutching a sudden lurch in her stomach, mustered a slight leer at the pair.

- -- -

_PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE_

"Eeny, meeny, miney, mo." The thin lips disappeared into strained, grey lines and a row of teeth caught the blue glare from the computer screen. "Catch a vandal by the toe..." There was no mistaking the obvious pleasure the Principal took jamming a poker into every violation running his nose, "A dorm-advisor or an Asian ho," he continued, his voice crawling with an unrestrained thrill, "They'll all be dancing in my show."

A scurried flourish of taps on the keyboard punctuated the end of his jovial rhyme and Vaysey swung giddily in his chair, his fingers forming a steeple as his mind whirred in thought. His son, coldly swinging the curtain over the window to shield the office from Nottingham's eye, watched his father in unwavering intent.

"I _knew_ it would be the Santa Claus I fired – Little, John. I know him well. Now, the pak...Firoza, _Saff-ee-yah_," the older man recited slowly, the pink tip of his tongue running slowly over his teeth, "A former scholar. And, I believe, a repeated offender."

Guy's chest stiffened with a retained breath as his father spun around slowly to rest his grey eyes on his face. "My boy," The principal tapped his nose, still focused, "That name sounds familiar...Hmm. Uh, Saffiyah Firoza. _Firoza, Firoza, Firoza_..."

"Number four-eight-four," Guy's lips released a whisper of recognition, causing Vaysey's smile to widen in return. "The Firozas. The apartment on Calthorpe Street?"

"Ah, yes, their daughter – what a _wonderful_ coincidence. The paks from London, you remembered. Ye-ees...Never got round to paying my rent, did they?" the drawl continued casually as Vaysey made a vague gesture towards his son, "But _you _handled that."

Before Guy could answer, his father reached over his desk placed a pruned fingertip to his lips. The scent of cigars burned through his skin and the pounding of painful guilt thrummed through his ears in a wave of something the man before him could never understand. Those eyes – those unfeeling eyes that bore into his soul and drew out a side to him he had to clasp under strong buckles to restrain.

"Don't go sentimental on me, Guy," the grin fell, his breath silky against the student's cheek, "You did what you had to do."

The finger left his lips.

"And you might have to do it again, son. Bring them in."

- -- --

**Marian, Will and Hood are reunited. Marian and Allan have a heart to heart about her situation. But, Robin still knows nothing about the bebbeh!**

**The gang are yet to find out that Mr Little and Saffiyah have been caught out by the Principal's officer. **

**Has anyone guessed the link between Guy and...other, erm, mysteries...? _scarslgk?jdscarsbrrghcoughetycough?_ (LOL at my clue.)**

**I apologise greatly for the lack of love and ridiculously rushed timescale. I have broken many oaths. But there will be some fluffiness to come – I promise.**

**Thoughts? x**


	14. And

**Exams are over! Therefore...I will be able to update three times this week – hopefully. Oh, WARNING: some themes are pretty awful to read about as they are to write about. It makes me shudder to think that this may be happening somewhere in the world: I hope you guys understand and appreciate it's context, though.**

"A nail file," Marian whispered for the umpteenth time, beginning to feel Allan lose his footing under her weight. She grabbed a fistful of his hair to steady herself and measured the size of the window with scrutiny. Taking another hasty glance around her bird's eye view, she examined the faulty ledge, unsure if her body would be able to wedge it's way under the glass. "A nail file. At the bottom of my purse, there's a metal one."

Allan coughed, his companion's legs wrapped awkwardly around his neck, "Why didn't you find it before you got on my shoulders?" he choked, rummaging through the handbag with such painful disregard for organization that Marian frowned at the source of rattling below. "You've got perfume, mints, glittery stuff...individually wrapped marshmallows?..." he held up a tampon with interest. "Not bein' funny, but I don't see a nail file anywhere. But you've got sparkly-dust stuff and a piece of lemon cake, in here, greedy arse."

"What?" Marian hissed, leaning over the student's crown, "I told you to grab_ my_ purse, Allan"

"Easy, Mother Mary," Allan mocked, "This is Penelope's handbag, I think," he announced, wrinkling his nose at the musky scent, his voice growing quieter as he spotted a reflective tube in the contents and slipped the object out of it's hiding place. Twisting the sharp metal of the needle in the light, the student inspected the last droplet of liquid rolling around the contents.

"Allan!"

From an impatient yank of blonde curls, the instrument fell into the depths of the purse and Allan retrieved a pair of tweezers, waving them above his head for Marian to grab. "'Ere, found something."

"If we could only find the key," Marian whistled through her teeth, using the tweezers to unhook the rusting latches, "This job would be much easier -"

"But somethin's going on with the caretaker's room," Allan replied, hoisting his heavy shoulders upwards for his friend's easier access, "Did you hear 'bout it?"

"No," Marian stopped scouring the window ledge.

A voice interrupted, authoritarian but shaken, "I did."

"Shit!" Allan swallowed, feeling his friend's body battle against the force of his spin. He grabbed hold of Marian's ankles as she attempted to climb down his body in shock and ignored the glowing burn on her cheeks as she disentangled herself from his back , "Oh, I can explain, we were -"

"Calm down, you human totem pole," Wendy rolled her eyes at the flustered pair, setting down a pile of books on the library table with a slam, "I can see you were both attempting to sneak into the librarian's office."

Marian watched in horror as the ex-student simply flashed a sideways grin at the lecturer, oblivious to the trouble he was about to fall into. "D'you have a key?" Allan coolly patted down the wrinkles on the collar of his shirt.

"You ass, she's a deputy," Marian whispered quickly, "She'll have us reported to Vaysey's officers any minute," her eyes widened at the older woman – who was rummaging through the pockets of her grey suit with a smirk.

"Books for the unfortunate?" Wendy tossed a jangling bunch of metal into Allan's hand.

"Nah," the student replied, jerking his head at a petrified Marian. "This one's got business with the computer. Speakin' of books, a load 'ave gone missing, last week."

Wendy slowly patted the glossy hardbacks resting on the table, "Yes, these Spanish books," she narrowed her eyes at Allan, "A couple of people had been caught smuggling them into the caretaker's office. Vaysey's receptionist asked me to place them back here..."

Marian, who had now realized that Miss Evans wasn't likely to report her to higher chairs, exchanged a suspicious glance with her friend and cleared her throat, "What exactly -"

"What exactly happened?" Allan interrupted loudly, stepping towards the lecturer.

"They were caught, yesterday," Wendy's eyes widened in concern, "I thought it had been somebody from Dooh Nibor,"

"It wasn't -" Marian's pursed lips parted again, only to be beaten by Allan's.

"It wasn't one of us," Allan's brow wrinkled. "None of us are caught."

"A dorm advisor," the older woman clicked her fingers in attempt to spur her memory, "And – I think a student named Sophie."

"Sophie?"

"I remember the professor saying something about a Susan or Sophie," Wendy tapped her fingers along the spine of a vocabulary book, her mind still raking through possible names, "Sophie – Sapphire?"

Suddenly, it dawned on Allan.

The faint oblong of light drew down from the librarian's office door, squaring itself on the lecturer's face as the students anxiously watched the fumble of names leave her lips, praying that the syllables weren't so painfully close to the name of the friend he knew very well – the girl who panicked over pandemics and recycled beer cans. A partner in crime; who had been missing for nine days in counting.

Teeth sinking into her bottom lip until a warm pulse could be felt under the pressure, Marian rested her hand on Allan's shoulder. "Saffiyah," she breathed.

"So she _is_ part of Dooh Nibor," Wendy's pupils flickered concernedly between the two faces.

Without exchanging another look, Allan nodded. "Yeah. She's one of us."

- -- --

There were days when Guy would stalk past the glossed panes of the expensive designer stores, simply out of boredom, ducking into his limousine to shed his leather jacket and make a passive gesture at his chauffeur to trudge through London's busiest highway with a tattered hat pulled crookedly over his piercing features. He would no longer be a wealthy student, simply disguised as a stranger. Like the many he had no respect for, but simply out of reason beyond his wooden words – not to walk in their rotting shoes.

His polished soles, scuffed by the dark dust and cigarette ash, would stop before a smallest building, often passed as derelict warehouse. But the windows portrayed pictures of workers – nonetheless – men who had been working for their lives but had been thrown to the kerb, a mother cradling underfed babies and praying that the NHS would take mercy over their small bones instead of the 'depressed' teenager from the local nightclub who had been begging for cosmetic surgery. He had seen the woman many times on his visits.

It was an unjust world.

Sidling through alleys, some old fart with browning teeth; constantly nibbling at his heels with a jar in his hands, allowed his fingers to crawl into Guy's pocket. One penny was all he was after. Those teeth, those grey eyes and that one circle of copper in his fingers – came with the addition of a sharp cry, echoing into the evening, as the student pushed the trembling cripple into the wild brush. Half-hidden by the wilting daffodils.

It was an unjust world.

And, now, he had – alongside his father - become the root of some of the injustice. What thinned Guy's blood further was the acceptance that he, too, had palms tainted with a mark of cruelty – maltreatment that haunted him to this very minute, shadowed gloomily under the office ceiling.

"Remember me?" her bitter voice from the present seeped through the past, unforgivably female but still sickeningly able to erode his thoughts. That round face and dark, penetrative eyes.

_How could he forget?_

That same evening, the two young people greeted each other. Instead of through desperate letters or glares through the letter slot. They met.

"_It's been four months. No pay."_ His warning had rang through the cold scaffolding, the coin lying still in his pocket.

The stench of pee and aerosol wafted from the graffiti, her small frame pressed to the very walls. The lilac headscarf was an unmistakable emblem of the Firoza women, and to the Vayseys, refugee families were pure vermin.

"_I promise. You'll have the rent – I'm finding work outside college – I just need some time -"_

"_Bullshit. Where's that Dad of yours?"_

"_He's in tha' mosque, Guy!"_

"_Yeah, yeah, those pakis -"_

"_C'mon, I just need a chat. Tell me where he is._

"_He's not here. Just leave me be,"_ The sting from her voice dissipated into the inebriated circle.

Dave let out a belch, his eyes wafting towards the door of the apartment,_"She's lyin', mate, let's just turn the flat inside out -"_

"_Tell me. Now."_

Perhaps that was her first mistake; being uncooperative to a group of violent, dangerously drunken men who had less respect towards foreigners than their appreciation for flies – a female or not. Her lips remained pursed, her gaze – although significantly lower – was so condescending that Guy felt the beaten tramp emerge from the brush and kick him sharply in the liver. His own actions were little different.

Her second mistake, Guy remembered bitterly, was wearing the alienating scarf over her hair. Only those eyes were a signal of her pain, as the sheer bandage of lilac that had become the barrier between the group's humanity and hatred was torn from her face.

The scarf never returned, to this day. Instead, a tangle of ebony lay tickled her cheeks – kicking him , sharply, in ever organ of his body.

Saffiyah's her wrists were no longer roughly pinned to brickwork but weighed down by shackles bound to her chair.

Guy felt her unrelenting, dark stare return. No words left his lips as his dominance evaporated, leaving him with a guilty fever as he thumbed through the papers in his father's office. Any excuse to concentrate on other matters. It had, inevitably, become his turn to remain silent.

"Same uni. Surprised that a pak gained an education?" she whispered with bile.

No answer. Only the painful, grinding ticking of the clock throbbed through the room like the impatient tap of dynamite.

There were too many enraged thoughts accumulating behind her teeth to spill at once. The fact that she had never known his first name – but had forever been warned of him as 'Vaysey' via crackly overseas phone calls from Jordan. The way her scars seemed to regain their grating sting the moment their eyes met and disbelief that they'd ever meet again. The situation was laced in doom and the core of her nightmares returned – the leers, the nails, the knives. Yet, every inch of fright was veiled by her sour words...Effortlessly mocking him. Until, a deafening slam murdered the delicate ticking of the principal's clock.

Guy wasn't sure whether it was because his father was absent or whether her taunts had decayed through his guilt and probed a small, throbbing heart of humanity – but her liberation, although determined a life of rage from the principal, flooded the room with light. His relief came in the form of a near concussion as a tall, pale freshman kicked and scrambled over the fallen wood and scrabbled at Saffiyah's wrists.

Guy had ducked carefully out of the way, placing himself in the shadows.

"C'mon, c'mon," Will whistled through his teeth, oblivious to the emotionless face observing him from the corner of the office. His watch rattled as he hooked a sharp knife into the lock of the handcuff, the young woman's flesh satisfyingly in tact beneath the metal. "Where's Vaysey?"

Saffiyah blinked, still shaken by the earsplitting bang.

"You alrigh'?" Allan sprinted over the door towards a stunned Saffiyah, halting at the sight of Guy. Narrowing his eyes at the waif of dark leather radiating from the corner of the room, he touched Will's shoulder. "Look – 'im."

Guy could already feel his father's breath burning his neck, the cry of "failure" and the painful pounding in his head – all of which sounded almost delicious with redemption. Forcing himself to glance at Saffiyah's hands, both of which were now clasped by her friends', he decided that repayment would taste far better than guilt. "He won't be back 'til an hour. Go," he ordered hoarsely. "Go."

- --

"How long are we staying here?"

Marian stared blankly at the pale blue walls, pupils darting from poster to poster; every sheet containing intricately sketched designs and black and white photographs. A woman wearing a patterned apron smiled back at her, her dimples identical to Will's. "I don't know," she replied honestly, "The officers are bound to find the basement hide-out, soon. This is the closest house to the campus."

"I'm surprised you found me," Saffiyah stated airily, though her insides still quivered from her previous encounter with Vaysey's son.

"We found Mr Little, too," Marian added, "And an unconscious officer."

Saffiyah nodded knowingly, the scent of the bedsheets were oddly comforting to her senses – as well as being warm, which was a definite contrast to the chair Vaysey had allowed her to fallen asleep in. "It's boiling," she commented, both girls pulling off their sweaters and jackets and, with a small smile, landing spread-eagle on the duvet.

"I'm sorry," Marian chuckled nervously, able to read her friend's thoughts. "You and Will are going to patch things up. You know, you're the Aladdin and Jasmine of this genre."

"No, I'm sorry. About Prince Charming," Saffiyah waved a hand dismissively, "But you're both alright now, right?"

Marian didn't answer but nodded, knowing that the day's events would be enough weight on the young woman's mind. But she discreetly pressed a palm to her abdomen and smiled goofily at the ceiling, then, detecting her insanity – frowned. But the prospects of having a child suddenly induced a surge of excitement, breaking another grin across her lips and Marian clutched her sides in the midst of hysterical laughter, internally cursing her hormones.

"What's wrong with you?" Saffiyah snorted.

Attempting to wheeze a reply, the student was interrupted by a tall young boy colliding backwards into the bedroom door. He was in the middle of swinging ceremoniously onto the bed, when the two female faces smiled politely back at him. Stumbling a little, he gave the young women a shy wave.

"Hi?" The brunette schoolboy brushed the biscuit crumbs from his band T-shirt and flashed a nervous smile.

"He smiles like Will -" Saffiyah whispered to her friend, who didn't seem to be able to control her giggling. "You're Luke, am I right?" she directed to the disheveled teenager.

"Yeah, and you're Saff," he announced, looking casually around his feet in attempt trying to sound uninterested. "That's Marian...I think."

Luke suddenly felt the need to whimper a prayer for the floor to swallow him whole as the three of them smiled awkwardly at each other for what seemed like eternity - there was only so long you could investigate carpet stains before you looked stupid. He didn't feel it would be safe to rest his gaze on his brother's friends – both of them only dressed in strappy vests, with noticeably larger chests than most of the girls in his year. It would only embarrass him further. "Well, you can sleep in this room."

"Thanks," Saffiyah grinned warmly.

"Not with me, I mean," Luke stammered, feeling his cheeks explode into a fiery blush, "But Will said you two can have it, if you want," he mumbled, searching for salvation and darting at lightening speed out of the door before the young woman could reply.

"Yes," Marian declared at the blur exiting the bedroom, "He's like a mini-Will."

-- --

Pale blue, Saffiyah decided, seemed milky and serene in daylight but, engulfed by the shadows, seemed to darken into a grim grey. She flopped onto the other side, nuzzling gently into ink-scented pillow to satiate her senses with the soothing taste of Will as the curtains cascaded open by a gush of wind bursting into the small opening in the window. The excuse to be near Robin meant the loss of Marian's soft body heat and Saffiyah grumbled at her misfortune. Shivering, she enveloped herself in the blanket and rolled to her right until the matte texture of the wall was pressed against her cheek.

Nothing.

Sleep wafted to the furthest section of her mind as the young woman pushed back her hair, peering at the dark photography smiling into the dark oblivion around her. Other than the topic of his young brother, there were many shards of the student's life that Saffiyah had never thought to ask about – let alone attempt to paste them together, as he had pressed on with her fears and scars. The film shimmered lightly under her fingertips, the family flashing pools of reflection as she touched the small boy in the photograph; dark hair covering his eyes, his bony knees touching the handlebars of his bike. A father, standing on both legs, was holding his youngest son by the arms, swinging him into the cloudless sky. Saffiyah had never seen Dan Scarlet so content.

However, her pace accelerated as her pupils flickered from photograph to photograph; faster and more desperate to leech out the memory clinging to the pallid walls – to paint it over her own, to cherish Will's past as hers. Her hands climbed the faces, the teeth bright and eyes twinkling under her clawing fingers, her throat suddenly tightened with emotion as her fingers stopped above the largest poster. A family portrait – the mother's apron dusted in flour, though her head bore no lilac scarf, with her young children scattered at her knees. All alive, unscathed. Safe.

- --

The distant hollers from the local drunks weren't the only echoes chewing at Will's peace as he stared thoughtfully into the ceiling, hoping to erode through the plaster and watch Saffiyah as she dreamed.

Removing Allan's arm from his chest, he sauntered restlessly towards the window with his camera chain around his neck as he focused in on the bronze blaze from the streetlights that captured passing heads under their silver heads. With each step, the strangers appeared and glistened under the glare and sunk into the shadows as swiftly as they appeared.

There was no doubt that the life the students lead stumbled gracelessly along the tightrope between imprisonment and exhausting liberation; today they could be shaking a grateful student's hand – tomorrow could be the last page of their story. The last page of _her _story.

Will's heart suddenly ebbed with a pulse summoned from nowhere, hammering his ribcage with adrenalin powered by frustration. The crack and scatter of the camera parts didn't even phase the photographer as he fled from the windowsill in a desperate storm of heat.

Pushing past doors, his heels soundless as they pummeled over the stairs, his gangly limbs almost taking taking off as his heartbeat thrummed louder through his ears. The cotton-parched roughness in his throat tasted almost metallic with fear as he swallowed down the remaining moisture in his mouth.

Faster.

Swinging around the banister, Dan and Luke yawning irritably in the passing room, his breath struggled to escape his lungs as he halted at the unmistakable creak of his bedroom door.

Saffiyah? Her hesitant silhouette lingered like a ghost at the door frame. As frightened but determined as ever. He almost wanted to laugh – expecting her to whimper like a toddler about nightmares and tighten her clutch on a teddy.

But the darkness blew over his sudden inhibitions, drawing out protective arms and dragging down his eyelids in wait.

The hurried patter of feet drew out a last breath as a broken moan escaped his throat, hands scrabbling over his chest and fisting his clothes as he harshly grabbed hold of the warm face and pressed his searing mouth to hers until their pressed skin almost burned from the collision. Their salvation – quenched, fully.

_At last._

"I thought I'd lost you -" he whispered into her jaw.

She could feel the unshaved stubble on her nose, his firm hands cradling the back of her neck as the hot moisture trembled at her lips – the gap between them molding until no white walls could peek between their bodies; legs tangling and stumbling out of the hallway until they collapsed on Will's bed, muscles never faltering as the pair clung to each other.

Saffiyah took a minute to turn her head and smile tremulously at the portrait on the pale blue wall.

The woman, dressed in the flour-blemished apron, grinned fondly back at her.

-- --

**A pretty tedious chapter. I'm sorry, my descriptions seem to died so I think I kept repeating them over and over again. **

**Well, the derelict basement has officially been left – er – derelict! So the gang are staying with the Scarlets. **

**You may have noticed that...Will and Djaq couldn't bear to separated any longer. Guy exposed his compassionate side and Allan has discovered a glinty little something in Penelope's purse. **

**Thoughts? **

**x **


	15. His

**Forgive me! My Microsoft Word has been acting up, lately. This chapter had to be typed up all over AGAIN. Here it is – please keep an open mind to the abstractness. You know the drill. **

**And a big thank you to all reviewers; your opinions are honored.**

**- -- --**

_SCARLET HOUSE, ROOFTOP_

"Just thought I'd tell you – an' that."

The stench of a substance that smelled similar to tar and Dan's peppermints lingered on their clothes, along with the stodginess of sleep that glued their throats and eyelashes from their unsettled dreams. Every so often, a slight droplet could be felt on their shoulders as the early clouds crumpled overhead, amass over Sherwood's distant golf course as the milkman wove through the terrace below.

Penelope smiled tiredly and allowed the patter of rain to drum over the helmet – which was incidentally Luke's. The teenager, although had been warned by his brother of her unusual ways, had grown fond of the dazed student and had happily dressed her in his skating gear.

There were days, Penelope realized, when the rough hum of satisfaction could be heard swelling throughout the gang's basement. And there were times when the only vibrations in the atmosphere were conjured by her brain to counteract the silence. It took all her might, when her usually outspoken companion crouched stoically on the broken roof tiles, not to burst into light song and wake Allan out of his low tones but even the first birds had perched on the chimneys in depressing cantabile.

"It's dawn, like on a Disney film." she sighed, the first amber strobe peeking vulnerably over the city's smoky horizon as she summoned a deep breath, "_Baaaa c-clenia...faw ma beeshee ma ba.._." her tinny voice cried.

The athletic young man stared at her incredulously, slowly raising his hand.

"It's the opening music to the Lion King," Penelope stated flatly.

"You see," Allan's sighed dryly into the sky, the sunrise melting over the the leaden clouds, "You never take things seriously, Penelope. And you 'ave to, sometimes."

Tossing her curtain of platinum over one shoulder, she replied gently, "Well, like, it's a beautiful day so I want to sing, 'kay?"

"Listen, Rafiki," The student placed a broad palm on each of her slender arms, his naturally laughing blue eyes darkening. The young woman's childlike stupidity seemed to absorb every trace of his own immaturity and, in the process, Allan felt more and more like the parent he hoped to never become. _It was bloody irritating_. "This 'as to stop."

"Like, if it's Much you're worried about - he'll never find out.," Penelope countered, though her justification only furrowed Allan's brow further. She slipped her pale arms out of his grasp, "I'm fine, you know. I've always been like this...It's just me..."

"Nah," Allan scoffed, undeterred, "You don't even know who you are. All this -" he gestured wildly at her, "This is all that crap you're taking."

"Look!" Penelope, with concentration as steady as a fish, suddenly flew onto her tiptoes, surprisingly steady on the roof tiles, pointing into the sky, "Geese - look – there..."

With alarmed eyes, Allan hissed, "Get down, you crazy bugger," he prodded angrily at her kneecap, "You'll die!"

The warning simply passed over Penelope like a warm gust of wind. As always.

-- --

_LUKE SCARLET'S BEDROOM_

"This is really embarrassing, I'm sorry," Saffiyah smiled apologetically as she slowly pulled back the wardrobe doors, glancing at the teenager in her peripheral vision. "It's just – you know – we've all left our clothes at the campus -"

Luke shook his head furiously, "S'alright. Will's clothes are massive," he mumbled, clumsily scraping metallic hooks along the rail, "Here, mine's not too baggy," he jerked a T-shirt off it's hanger and held it sheepishly in front of him, "This one might be tighter for you."

The older student chuckled gratefully, noticing the usual blush assaulting the boy's cheeks as she inspected the garment.

"I didn't mean tighter -" he babbled hastily, scratching his ear, "Ahhh, I meant – girl's like their clothes – well, it'd be huge if you -"

"Luke. It's fine," Saffiyah sighed, still gandering through her options before she spotted something decent on the floor of the wardrobe. "Aha! This one looks suitable."

Being accustomed to living in confined spaces with many people, she whipped off her shirt, always wearing a decent vest underneath, and pulled on Luke's ensemble with ease. The startled owner looked away and, detecting a glossy magazine beneath his sock-pile and kicking it into the shadows.

"Hmm, jeans?" The student rummaged casually through startling Red Hot Chilli slogans and smirked at the fluorescent boxers, "I heard the eighties want their pants back."

"The eighties also wanted this cap back," Dan Scarlet chuckled roughly, lazily brushing through the open door on his crutches flinging an over-sized mesh hat over Saffiyah's head so that her ears poked out underneath, "Have you found something you fancy, milady?"

"The lady insists on getting Penelope's treatment," The young woman smiled politely and elbowed an uncomfortable Luke in the ribs, watching him stifle a smug grin, "Got any more skating gear?"

"You know, I gave _Penelope_ a helmet for health and safety regulations," Luke joked.

Dan tilted his head in thought as the young people chirped contentedly on the pale blue bedspread, Saffiyah's masculine clothes an over-sized splash of neon against the milky background. No woman had stepped foot inside his house in over five years as both of his sons were either too distracted by photography or cycling to bring one home and, after such a dry period, Dan Scarlet found himself frowning with gentlemanly disapproval of the young woman's clothes. "I think," he interrupted the discussion about bike suspensions with a slight cough, "I can find something a little more appropriate for you to wear."

-- --

_SCARLET HOUSEHOLD, KITCHEN_

"How about Zeus?"

"Nope."

"Vince?"

"No."

"Moses!"

"Mmm..." Marian looked up from the newspaper, "No. It could be a girl, don't forget," she muttered quietly, rustling the papers with a flustered flourish whilst loudly adding, "And please, Penelope, if I wanted a list of baby names, I'd have found something on the internet a little more appealing than Moses or Vince. Also, no _Zeus_. You've grown an unhealthy fetish for Much's Greek Gods."

Penelope ran her fingers along the kitchen blinds, allowing the light to peek out behind her fingertips as she pulled the cord in deep thought. The slits of white opened and closed, raining with the sound of the shutter's plastic as she watched her companion drum her fingers restlessly on her plate, growing pleased at the display of annoyance. "If the baby is, like, a girl," she announced, "Then she shall be called Penelope, after me."

"Fine, fine," Marian agreed with the flick of her wrist. The days had swept by with increasingly uncomfortable sickness – accumulating discomfort as Much had found her vomiting into the gutter in the most vulnerable hours of the morning. Rotating around the problem only increased her nausea. "Anyway," she cleared her throat, "Why did Allan need you on the roof this morning?"

"Oh, and her middle name shall be Amelie," Penelope continued gabbling, ignoring her friend's query.

"Alright. So, what did he want?" Marian persisted.

"And, like, we'll dye her hair black and give her a pet goldfish called Hercules," Penelope's eyes widened eagerly, the white stripes running upwards as she quickly yanked the blinds open to dazzle the room with blinding brilliance, "Then she can run about the fields with a brown guitar over her shoulder."

Marian snorted inelegantly as she bit into her toast, "I can see that."

"Or, how about Aphrodite? The goddess of, like, love..."

"We shall feed the baby oysters and chocolates all day long," Marian smiled in amusement, finding herself enjoying the conversation, "And dress her in a purple toga, like Megara?"

"Megara," Penelope clapped her hands together in glee.

"Womanly matters?" Robin wrinkled his nose at the scent of heavily buttered toast, striding into the kitchen with an authoritative air. There had been little changes to the Scarlet's household, as he was inspected the children's drawings patching the fridge door, clearly missing Marian's perplexed stance as he wandered into the room. "Megara – who?"

"Oh no," Penelope sighed, "We have another Disney virgin."

"Well, when she has a child, in the future," Robin kissed the tip of Marian's nose, "We will consider names. But, seeing as she's not expecting anything of the sort, we must consider these," he nodded , flipping through the newspaper in Marian's frozen hands, "Look – there's some sort of health warning in the headlines."

Ignoring Robin's news, Penelope absorbed the expression of horror on her friend's face and smiled manically, "Of course."

"Tea?" Marian interrupted the suspicious air with the scrape of her kitchen stool, "I think Dan put the kettle on -"

"Why were you reading this page?" the eyebrow cocked suspiciously, causing a slow thud to erupt inside Marian's ribcage.

The two young women slowly turned to one another, one appearing uncharacteristically defeated whilst the flaxen grinned triumphantly at the vivid article about the topic of 'Teen Pregnancy Q&A' glaring between the young man's fingers. Undeniably, there was no escape route, now.

Counting the tiles between her feet and his, desperately wanting to clutch the newspaper to her chest – simply to keep her unsteady hands occupied – Marian's azure gaze slowly rolled upwards in surrender, a brave inhale quavering in her lungs. "Well, I wanted to talk to you about something. That, actually."

Robin bit back a chuckle, eyes swanning from the blonde to the brunette in silent laughter.

"Please don't be angry at me -" Marian ordered solemnly, though her fingers quivered in a plea for mercy. "I'm sorry it's taken me so long to come out with it."

The pause tightened into a band of wide, blue eyes; suddenly glinting with realization as Robin spoke, slowly and carefully, "You seriously want this?"

"I do."

Those words, once whispered under reassuring duvets, stilled the moan from the kettle with such clear acceptance that Marian could feel the determination ebbing through her system in a growing tidal force. I do. I do want this. _I want this baby_.

"I have made my decision."

"But – you're fine the way you are, now, us, you..." Robin raked a hand through his hair, frustrated at her willfulness. "There's so many problems associated with this, Marian, I want you to -"

"I'm fully aware of the problems," She glowered, lapping waves of hurt thrashing against her static countenance. "But I've made my choice, fully aware that half of the choice is yours."

Glancing at a silent Penelope with a furrowed brow, he turned back to Marian with an exasperated sigh.

"So. You'll stand by me?" she raised her eyebrows.

"Do I have actually have a choice?" came the aggravated response, "This is all about you."

"Me?" Marian hissed, "Are you saying you're going to leave me to deal with this alone? By me, I mean me _and_ the obvious addition."

"Well, I'm not getting the boob implants, am I?" he mumbled uncomfortably.

Penelope, who had been perched on the kitchen worktop with a glassy gaze that darted between the couple's faces, suddenly allowed a melodic laughter to spill from her stomach. Startling her friends, a pale hand slipped the newspaper from the table and she pointed a slim finger at the advertisement above the 'Teenage Pregnancies' article.. "Plastic Surgery, Marie," she giggled. "Here."

"I know you've complained about your bra-size," Robin sighed, "But I didn't think you were serious."

Robin had sampled his small portion of army life, having journeyed through Iraq for three months and the sandstorms and monsoons were enough to cross the area off his list of holiday destinations. He was fortunate, though, never having to come across the more terrifying of natural disasters. However, the tornado of raging arms in the form of Marian, running rampant through the Scarlets' kitchen, gave Robin a quick taste of the hard life.

"My _bra-size?_"

Slowly, It had become Penelope and Robin's turn to cower into the corner of the kitchen, a hand pressing absentmindedly into the steaming slice of toast as they shuffled away from the startling cries. "What did I say?" he whispered, wiping butter on his jeans.

"Breast enlargements!" Marian hollered, the roll of newspaper missing Robin's face by millimeters, "You think I'm talking about my breasts?"

"Will you please calm down?" Robin hushed, the platinum slither of a woman wincing at his fatal words at his side. _Idiot, _Penelope thought as she rubbed her temples.

"Calm down?"

"I didn't -"

"You're asking me to _c__alm_ down?" came the violent scream.

"It'd be wise," Robin shrugged defenselessly, searching the kitchen for assistance.

"Listen, smart ass," The voice pierced through the morning's bewilderment, causing Robin and Penelope to flinch simultaneously, "I'm pregnant."

The blonde student whistled through the thick silence as the brain beside hers whirred from the impact of Marian's news. She peered curiously at the kitchen light, expecting it to fall from the angry tremors circulating the room. Any minute now, he'd find his voice...

"You're not," Robin choked in denial.

"Yes! I have a foetus in my body. I am going to have a child, Robin," Marian declared, "And if you _dare_ say that I'm in this predicament alone, I will have you neutered by Nottingham's vets. Do you understand?"

"A baby?"

"Yes, a baby."

"The fruit of her womb," Penelope nodded sagely at the bewildered young man, "Womb-fruit."

"You - what?" Robin's voice broke with something that sounded between a laugh and a cry. Raw disbelief and anger spiked through his fists, but somehow, the cooling essence of surprise from within – gentle and befuddling with softness he didn't expect - began to shroud his throat as he stared properly at Marian's midriff, stunned. Not knowing whether to kick himself to numb the reality of the situation or to let a laugh escape his lips, he asked himself how he could have been so dense. Her tears, the sudden change in tone, the wretching and her sudden approval and disapproval of physical affection...All down to the newfound doughiness of her hips, masked by her new obsession with baggy dresses. The clarity was startling. "So – no stomach bug?"

"No stomach bug," Marian breathed in confirmation.

"No retaining water?"

"No retaining water," she dismissed her previous excuses.

"How long?" He smiled tremulously, feeling his limbs grow weak as he placed a hand on the kitchen work top to steady himself.

"Two months," She stammered, a slightly hysterical laugh tugging at her cheekbones. And, with her relief echoing jovially along the kitchen tiles and Penelope reflecting her smile, she dragged Robin's frame off the counter and wrapped her arms around his chest so that her ear was pressed onto the dull thud of his heart. "It's been two months of Hell."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Oh," Marian chuckled weakly into the warmth, "You know, Penelope's warped description of labor pains kept me distracted. Not that _you'll_ have to go through them," she fisted the loose T-shirt by her cheek, giving him a light punch, "But you better not go all young-parent-trauma on me."

"Surprisingly, I'm not feeling the trauma," Robin murmured into her soft mass of chestnut curls, tightening his hold on her in determination. "So," he broke into the silence, poking a gentle finger on her navel, "Who's the dad?"

"Robin. Not funny."

"And why would you pick a name like Moses?"

Blinking wistfully at the embracing couple, Penelope twisted a finger around a luminous tendril of hair as the affectionate bickering unfolded before her; vibrations from Marian's serious shouts still slowly dancing through the house, now in comical chants. Somehow, they were growing into a real couple – day by day – and the news seemed to only strengthen their bond.

"You're such a family," Penelope whispered, her silky voice turning their heads, "Like Mary, Joseph and your womb-fruit Jesus". Suddenly a spark accented her frosty gaze, "How about Jesus?"

"No," The couple groaned in unison.

- --

_MASTER BEDROOM_

Dan heaved his heavy limbs around the open suitcases and carefully lowered himself onto the bed. He sighed as he shifted his attention to his bent knees. Lacing his dry fingers together, he cleared his throat. "These were Jane's."

The man's voice reflected something that Saffiyah had heard before, felt in her own grief, yet – even though she understood the pain in his tone – she continuously felt alien to the Scarlet family.

The lack of Eastern shimmer, beads and golden thread had been replaced by wool and shades of mint that she would never associate with her late mother, leaving her feeling achingly blank. Everything was so plain. English. Desperate to feel a connection, for the sake of respect, she considered touching the clothes.

Running a hesitant hand over the folds of daisy print and plain threads, she felt the fabric twitch and run into elegant embroidery; curving around imaginary arms and shoulders...A modest, lilac gauze washing over the subtle twinkle. There was something there, inside the blandness. Muffled in the creases came her family's lilt – _'Firoza'_; the hiss of oil and the noisy cricket match blaring on the television. She could feel it – the presence and the loss. The perfume of a mother – lily or cinnamon. Her own and Will's.

Suddenly finding her own family in the mass of foreign material, Saffiyah lifted the floral blouse of watery English dye and held it over the square of daylight.

The older man scratched behind his ear, "I thought you girls might need some better clothes to wear," he offered, "Seein' as you can't go running about Nottingham shopping center, just yet."

"Thank you, so much, Dan," Saffiyah smiled, eyes catching onto Will; who was leaning quietly against the bedroom wall. He simply shrugged in return, diverting his gaze from the painfully familiar fabric stretched between her hands.

The desperate thud of feet scampered up the staircase and skidded into the bedroom door, a shy knock interrupting their quiet gratitude. "Hello? Are you dressed?"

"It's fine, Much," Will shook his head knowingly at his father, "Come in."

"Is there somethin' wrong?" Dan Scarlet took a stumbling step and closed the door behind the panting student, who simply stared into the scuffed suitcases upon the bed with a distant expression on his face.

"What's Penelope done now?" Will sighed critically.

"No, It's not Penelope."

Saffiyah narrowed her eyes, absorbing the obvious anxiety etched on her companion's face. "Much?"

"Erm," Much began, tearing his eyes away from the clothes and focusing on Saffiyah. "Robin just read the paper...It was on the news."

"What was on the news? Vaysey?"

"No," Much shook his head vigorously, plucking hurriedly through his choice of words, "Just – just - tell me everything you know about the global pandemic."

Will chewed the skin on his bottom lip and turned to the young woman at his side. Her face had paled.

- --

**Erm, if you're confused about this pandemic business – you might want to remind yourself of chapter 2. **

**Alrighty! I thought I'd keep the MarianRobin confession as light at possible. I always tease the couple with the usual arguing and a helping of Penelope. I always think of Robin as focused and courageous (100 Hood) – but incredibly dense when it comes to sensitive issues.**

**Penelope still has an addiction to drugs, as Allan has discovered. On top of that, bigger problems are on the way.**

**I had a bit of fun with Luke's wardrobe. Don't you think he would be a bit of a BMX kid, in this century? But a girl can't wear a sixteen-year-old kid's gear for so long, so the Scarlet boys donate some of their mother's clothes. **

**What d'you think?**


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